


À la Carte

by MereLoup



Series: Crème de la crème [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (I don't know what the hell is wrong with me), (at least when it pertains to Stiles), (i'm sorry), (kind of), (not literally. but I like that that is a tag so I'm using it), (yeah you read that correctly), Aftercare, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ass Play, Barebacking, Beard Burn, Breast Milk as Lube, Businessman Derek, Consensual Somnophilia, Derek has a fat knot, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, ESL Stiles, Everyone ends up covered in bodily fluids, Exhibitionism, Just the Tip, Kink Discovery, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Masturbation, Morning Sex, NIpple stimulation, Nipple Biting, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual, Nursing Kink, Older Derek, Omega Stiles, Overstimulation, PLEASE READ THE WARNING FOR MORE IN DEPTH DETAILS, Pain Kink, Public Masturbation, Riding, Self-Lubrication, Sex in Beta Form(s), Size Kink, Socially Awkward Derek Hale, Somnophilia, Stiles Stilinski is a God, Stiles is also kind of a size queen, Stiles is heavy producer and leaks all over everything, Voyeurism, Wet & Messy, Younger Stiles, biting kink, burlesque performance, fleshlight, no bad!wrong I promise, poorly spoken Polish by the author, sex show, stiles is polish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:04:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7942291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MereLoup/pseuds/MereLoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*</p><p>Lydia turned to Derek, smiling brightly.</p><p>“Welcome back, Mr. Hale. I didn’t think we’d see you back so soon. Have you reconsidered a membership?” she asked teasingly, if not a little smugly.</p><p>“Still considering,” Derek chuckled softly.</p><p>“Mr. Hale here has an invitation,” Malia said, eyes locked on the other patrons in the room.</p><p>“How lucky for Mr. Hale,” Lydia responded. “I’ll go ahead and seat you, Mr. Hale.” she said, reaching toward the stack of menus.</p><p>“He’s not in the dining room,” Malia called over her shoulder, “He’s in the Velvet Lounge tonight.”</p><p>“The Velvet Lounge?” Lydia quirked an eyebrow, her eyes full of mischief. “Lucky, Mr. Hale,<i> indeed</i>,” she grinned lasciviously.</p><p>*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovelies!
> 
> First of all, THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO READ, KUDOSED, COMMENTED LAND OF MILK AND HONEY! I know I’ve probably said this ad nauseum, but I never in my wildest dreams would have expected the reception it got from all of you. You guys treat me so right! 
> 
> I finally got my shit together and finished the second part of [The Land of Milk and Honey](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6016945?view_adult=true)! For those of you who haven't read that, you probably should or else much of this might not make sense. 
> 
> The entire story is finished, but formatting it for AO3 is what’s taking me forever. I wanted to wait until I had the whole thing finished and formatted before I posted it, but I got tired of waiting for life to chill the fuck out and give me a minute to relax (which it has refused to do), so I am going to have to post it in segments if I am going to post it at all in the foreseeable future. 
> 
> This story is longer that LoMaH, but it’s only a little over 30k, so it’s not super long. It gives a closer look into the inner workings of Dolce, some additional salacious services that they offer, and most importantly, more delicious Sterek interactions. ;)
> 
> As usual, I don’t have a beta, so all mistakes are entirely my own. 
> 
> Feel free to hang out with me on [ tumblr ](http://darkandstormynight.tumblr.com/). It's the best way to find out what’s going on with my writing. Your kudos and comments make me feel **reborn** , and thank you ALL for taking the time to read the perverse shit that comes out of my head. 
> 
> Much love!  
> -ML.
> 
> (also, I’m super behind on responding to comments right now. I promise I will get to them tomorrow) 
> 
> (I feel like I need to add the disclaimer, “Abandon all hope ye who enter here,” before all of my smut fics. Lol)

*  
*  
*

 

Derek learned long ago that the best way to survive one of Peter’s freak outs was just to let him get everything out of his system.

He would get worked up about whatever situation he thought was a major crisis, and he’d bombard Derek with phone calls or texts of the woe-is-me variety. It could be a lot to deal with, but, eventually, he would run out of steam, the ‘crisis’ would pass, and Derek could get back to his life. Until then, he just had to weather the storm. 

At this moment, Hurricane Peter was raging on and Derek was doing his best to let it blow over. 

While he listened to his uncle rant and rave about the merger with Argent International, he offered the occasional “uh-huh” and “of course” and “I can’t believe he’d do that!” while scanning some news sites on his laptop. 

Derek was sitting on one of the large, cushioned chairs that Cora had picked out for the terrace. Derek’s penthouse took up the entire top floor of his building, and came with an expansive outdoor terrace that offered a to-die-for view of the Upper West Side. Every morning after his run, Derek would make sure he was able to watch the sunrise from the terrace while he drank his coffee. Derek didn’t have a lot of time for things outside of work, but he made time for that. 

Currently, Hale Enterprises and Argent International were only two weeks away from announcing their business collaboration. They had decided to throw a giant event in San Francisco to formally announce the merger, with a guest list that included several top clients from both companies and multiple investors. Chris Argent had even secured the RSVP of a top business writer and an editorial in Fortune magazine with an exclusive interview promoting the plans for the upcoming quarter. 

Derek was rather excited about the way things were heading. It had only been a few short days since Chris Argent signed the contract, but since Peter had worked so hard on getting as much ready to go as he could before their sit down, once the ink dried on the contracts, production had begun almost immediately. This union was going to make everyone connected with Hale Enterprises and Argent International a lot of money, and the already high stocks were projected to skyrocket once the merger went public. 

“Peter, listen to me,” Derek repositioned himself on the cushioned sofa, closing his laptop and setting it aside. “This merger is huge. And of _course_ Argent wants to be as involved with it as he can be. It’s his chance to create his own legacy.” Derek rubbed his hand across his face, trying to keep the boredom from his tone. “It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he just wants to make sure everything is running smoothly.”

Derek knew that Chris Argent was eager to be included on the more boring day to day things with the merger. He also knew that Peter hated being nagged and questioned about his every move. Peter wasn’t used to being second-guessed and Chris Argent wasn’t used to not having absolute control over a project.

They were more alike than either of them were able to admit and they were both on edge for different reasons. If Derek didn’t have to deal with the both of them, he’d find it quite funny.

“I know it’s a _big deal_ for him, Derek,” Peter growled. “He emails several times a day. Every time I come back from taking a _shit_ , Meredith is telling me that his office has called again to hear an update.”

Derek quirked an eyebrow, “Have you tried timing your shits so that you take them at home?”

“Ha-ha.” Peter replied dryly. 

Derek rolled his eyes. “Peter, you _know_ if it were the other way around, if it were you taking a chance-”

“I _am_ taking a chance, Derek.” Peter grumbled under his breath.

“If _you_ were trying to forge a new path with your business,” Derek continued, ignoring Peter completely, “and you decided to work with another company, are you telling me you’d just sit by and let them handle everything without even checking in?”

Peter was silent for a second, but Derek could feel the annoyance rolling off of him from across the city. 

“That doesn’t give him the right to annoy the shit out of me.” Peter grumbled petulantly. 

“Do you want me to comment honestly?” Derek switched his phone to the other ear and lifted his feet to rest on the ottoman. He would really rather be doing literally anything else than having this conversation with Peter. For the _fifth_ time. 

“No.” Peter snapped. 

From inside the penthouse, Derek heard the landline begin to ring. 

“Peter, I’ve got go.” Derek said, using this as an out. Although, to be honest, at this point Derek would have taken any excuse to get off the phone with his uncle. “I know it’s frustrating, but just humor him.” 

He walked back inside and made his way to front of the apartment, where the house phone was mounted to the wall right next to the elevator. 

“In a few weeks once everything is official, we’ll have the launch party, the two of you will have the interview with the woman from Fortune magazine, and everything will run smoothly. Once we start making money from this, Chris will be out of your ass.”

“Well _that’s_ an image I don’t need,” he scoffed.

Derek sighed heavily. “Goodbye, Peter!” 

He ended the call and slipped his phone in the pocket of his track pants, while he picked up the house phone with the other hand. “Hale.”

“Hello, Mr. Hale, it’s the front desk. There’s someone in the lobby who says he has a delivery for you?”

For a split second, Derek was a little confused; most of the time he had things delivered to the office. It made sense since he spent most of his time there. He usually only had things shipped to the penthouse if it was something that wasn’t work related. Derek thought back to what he could have possible ordered recently and his breath caught in his throat. 

The only thing he’d ordered recently was a very expensive bottle of omega milk, that was made just for him from the omega of his dreams. 

His heart began to beat faster and the slow curl of arousal unfurled in his stomach. 

“Send them up.” He barked, barely keeping the growl out of his voice.

“Yes, sir.”

Derek hung up the phone and paced around the front of the penthouse near the door, anxiously waiting for the elevator to reach his floor. 

Derek had jerked off every night since he met that sweet, sexy omega Stiles at the hidden-in-plain-sight omega bar downtown. 

The memory of the taste of that omega’s milk haunted Derek’s senses. If he concentrated really hard, he could still smell the soft, cinnamon scent that had radiated from the omega’s smooth skin as Derek held his neck in a firm grip between his teeth and fucked into his tight, hot hole.

If it wasn’t for Derek’s lycanthropic healing factor, he was sure his dick would have been chaffed beyond belief from all the action it was getting. 

He was grateful to the giant distraction that work was providing him. Without it, he was sure he’d be crawling the walls in anticipation to see the omega again. Hell, he probably would have squandered an alarming amount of his bank account at Dolce, glutting himself on sweet milky omegas, suckling and fucking to his heart’s content.

Derek was shaken from this particularly delicious train of thought by the sound of the elevator ascending in the shaft. Derek cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, trying to get a rein on his more carnal hungers. At least until after the delivery person had left. 

Finally, the elevator stopped on the penthouse floor. 

There was a soft ding and Derek heard the elevator doors open up to Derek’s closed front door. From the other side came a firm, even knock. 

Derek took a calming breath and counted to three inside of his head --not wanting to seem too eager--before he opened his front door. 

Inside the elevator, there stood a well-dressed beta who was adorned in all black. On the breast of his button down shirt, there was an elaborate ‘D’ embroidered in gold thread. In one hand he held a clipboard and cradled in the other was an oblong, black velvet box wrapped with a lavish, gold-colored ribbon. 

“Good evening.” He smiled cordially at Derek, nodding his head slightly in greeting. He glanced down at the clipboard in his hand. “I have a delivery for Mr. Hale.”

“That’s me,” Derek said gruffly, stepping back to allow the beta into the apartment. 

The man stepped into Derek’s apartment and held the clipboard out to Derek.

“Can I have your initials here, here and here, please?” He pointed to several areas on the sheet which Derek then signed. "And then your full signature at the bottom of the page.” 

Derek scribbled his signature and handed the clipboard back to the young man. He glanced over it briefly, making sure everything was signed appropriately, and tucked the clipboard under his arm. 

“Here you go, Mr. Hale.” He handed Derek the elaborately wrapped box. “It is recommended that it is stored in a refrigerated environment, however, it can be consumed either warm or chilled.”

Derek nodded, glancing down at the box. “Thank you.” This was probably the fanciest delivery Derek had ever received. 

He grabbed his wallet from the table near the door and pulled out several bills, handing them to the delivery boy. “For your service.”

The beta glanced and the bills, nodding professionally and tucking them into the breast pocket on his shirt. “Thank you, Mr. Hale.”

The beta stepped back into the elevator, and Derek closed the door to his apartment. He heard the elevator doors close and the elevator beginning its descent. 

The velvet box was cool in Derek’s hands and he was willing to bet that it was in an insulated box. He headed into his large, although mostly unused, kitchen. Derek unwrapped the elegant ribbon and lifted the lid off of the box. Inside, nestled within gold tissue paper, was a bottle with black-frosted glass. The top of the bottle had gold foil around the cork and beneath that, a metal fastener. On the front of the bottle, there was a metallic gold label with elaborate script, the cursive font matching the sign above the bar, reading ‘Dolce’ in large letters. Beneath that was the production date, stamped with Sunday’s date. 

Derek practically purred in delight picturing the omega, _Stiles_ , milking himself and filling this bottle for Derek. Flushed, and whimpering and oh so wet, just for _him_. 

Derek made space in his wine fridge for the bottle, vowing to treat himself to something extra special tonight. 

 

*

 

Derek wanted to take his time and his bottle of omega milk, without any trace of work baggage. 

He ate dinner standing at the counter while he shot off a few last minute emails, then he got in a thorough workout. The stress that had been sitting on his shoulders seemed to disappear, and as Derek was in the shower washing himself off, he pictured the tension spiraling down the drain with the water. Eventually, Derek toweled off and exited the bathroom. 

He made his way through the penthouse, still nude, to the kitchen and grabbed a tumbler from the cupboard. As much as he wanted to take this into his bedroom, he knew he was probably going to make a bit of a mess. So instead, he brought the tumbler and the milk into the large living room and sat down on the couch. Cora was the one who had picked out Derek’s furniture. He wasn’t one for leather couches, or giant, opulent glass coffee tables. (“It looks like something some Wall Street asshat from the 80s would snort coke off, Cora.” )

Derek made himself comfortable on the couch. Using the all-in-one remote that Boyd had gotten him for Christmas last year, Derek turned on some soft music for some background noise. Finding an album he liked, he set the remote down on the couch and turned his attention to the large, black bottle.

Derek unwrapped the foil surrounding the top of the bottle and set it on the table. He didn’t think to bring an opener to remove the cork, so he instead extended a single claw, gouging it into the cork. He ignored the tug where the base of his nail met his nail-bed, and after enough steady force the cork finally jerked out. 

Immediately, the smooth, creamy aroma hit Derek’s nose, wrapping him in a cocoon of warm desire. His eyelids fluttered involuntarily as he shuddered, his sensory memory taking over reminding him of last weekend’s activities and being able to taste this straight from the source. 

Derek let out a low satisfied growl. The scent alone had him half hard, and he reached down to fondle himself momentarily, coaxing his erection to full hardness. He was right to have had this delivered to the house, because if he had had it shipped to the office, there’s no way he would have gotten anything done, because he would have been too busy drinking every last drop from the bottle with his hand on his cock.

He poured a few fingers’ worth into the tumbler, his eyes practically glazing over as he watched the milk fill the glass. He was distracted as he set the bottle back on the table, nearly setting it too close to the table’s edge. 

Derek settled back into the couch and brought the glass of omega milk to his nose, breathing in as much of the scent as he could, looking for even the subtlest hint of Stiles’ scent that he could. Not wanting to waste a moment more, he tipped the glass back, swallowing nearly the entire amount he’d poured in one gulp. 

The smooth taste washed over Derek’s taste buds and he heard himself growl in contentment, and as he swallowed, he felt the heavy, mind-numbing sensation of arousal pool in his stomach. 

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned. His cock was curled up against his belly, the tip flushed and leaking against his skin. 

The taste of the milk very vividly brought back all of the memories of the omega beneath him and the seductive atmosphere of Dolce. His mind flashed to images of Stiles, spread out beneath him, the way his body arched up into his and the tender little mewls he made as Derek fucked into his body. 

Derek felt around the couch, looking for the remote, and accessed the web browser on the smart TV. He browsed through his bookmarks, scrolling through some of his favorite porn sites for which he had a membership. 

Boyd made fun of Derek for being one of the only people who still paid for porn, but he didn’t care. Of course he realized he could get it free on the internet, but he was a firm believer in paying for the things he liked and supporting the person who provided the service.

Like most things that came with having a membership, the sites Derek subscribed to were top quality, both in content and in visual quality. Derek liked compensating the actors for their work. He also liked the peace of mind that came with knowing that the participants in the videos were of legal age, were consenting participants, and that their videos hadn’t been stolen and uploaded without their permission. The last thing Derek wanted to think about while he was watching porn was whether or not everyone was safe and taken care of. 

When he found a site that piqued his interest, Derek clicked on it and quickly found a video that he found to be just the exact level of arousing that he needed. 

He tossed the remote back on the couch, and grabbed the bottle of milk from the table, filling his glass once again. Derek spread his legs a little wider, giving his hand room to work between his legs as he rolled his balls in his hand. 

The video he chose was of two lactating omegas who were sensually making love to one another, nursing intermittently, on a large canopied bed with overstuffed pillows and a beautiful beach view outside the window behind them. The male and female omega gently fondled one another while making out sweetly on the large bed, the male omega’s hand slowly jacking his own weeping cock. Derek brought his hand to his own cock, stroking slowly to match the pace of the male omega. His eyes fell to the omegas’ breasts which had sensual pearls of milk pearling at the nipple and dribbling down the skin of the side of their skin. 

Derek took a long slow sip from his glass, his eyes still trained on the video. The milk was thick and creamy as it ran down his throat, appealing to Derek's basest of senses both in taste and smell. Derek let out a growl low in his throat, the arousal flowing through his body like electrical currents. He wanted nothing more than an omega to fuck right now, and because the taste of the milk he was drinking, his body wanted one omega in particular. 

Derek looked down at his cock, and as a particular wave of animal arousal washed through him, he tilted his glass, pouring some milk down onto his erection, covering his cock in the scent of the omega. He set the glass down quickly, and used his other hand to catch the milk that threatened to spill onto the couch, working it back into the base of his cock. 

His eyes flashed back up to the video, and he watched as the female omega was seated on the male omega’s face, riding his mouth as she squeezed her tits, milking herself and letting the droplets flow down her stomach, towards her pussy, and drip on the male omega’s chin. Derek worked his shaft with one hand and his balls with the other, massaging the milk into his skin. The smell of his precome and the omega’s milk caused his fangs to drop and his mouth to water. 

He set his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes. He heard the sound of the omegas on screen and wondered what Stiles would sound like. Their time together had been characterized by the fact that Stiles was working, so he wasn’t really allowed to make noise. At Dolce, Derek heard the whimpers and whines that Stiles couldn’t hold in, but it wasn’t enough. He would have given _anything_ to hear what Stiles sounded like when he wasn’t holding back. 

Derek leaned forward and grabbed the entire bottle that was sitting on the table. He brought it up to his mouth and took several gulps, feeling the creamy liquid fill his mouth and slide down his throat. He jerked his shaft more firmly, his hips thrusting up into his hand and the sounds of the fucking omegas filling his ears. Having his fill, Derek pulled the bottle away from his mouth, but poured more onto his erection, using the liquid to help lubricate his cock. 

Derek brought one of his feet to rest on the edge of the coffee table as he spread his knees wider and wider. He reached down to his balls, rolling them around him his hand. He tilted the bottle again, dripping some of the liquid onto his chest, allowing it to drip down and mingle in his pubes, dripping onto the hand working the full globes. 

“ _Fuck,_ yes,” He groaned out into the silence of his apartment. Derek set the bottle down on the floor, his other hand returning to his cock. He thrust up into his hand again using the omega’s milk to work his shaft. 

His mind flashed back to the svelte omega, all trussed up and open just for him. He recalled the way he pushed back against his knot, pushing onto the bulb as if he could work Derek’s fully inflated knot back inside of his tight hole. The little mewling noises he made while he rubbed up against Derek as he fucked him. 

“ _Shit_ , little one.” Derek grunted out, thrusting into his hand faster and faster. Derek tried his best to pretend that the tightness of his hand was the omega's hole, squeezing his cock, trying its hardest to milk Derek of his come. 

Derek could feel his knot inflating at the base of his shaft and he bought a hand between his legs, cupping the base of his cock so he could squeeze the swelling knot. With his other hand, he worked the head of his dripping cock, the milk coating the way and acting as a lube. Delirious with arousal, Derek barely noticed as he shifted off of the couch, coming to stand with one foot on the ground and the other on the surface of the glass coffee table.

Derek growled ferally, fucking into his hand, his eyes trained on the omegas on the tv screen. He thrust faster and faster until his orgasm finally washed over him, and he threw his head back and roared, thrusting into his hand while white streams of come shot out, streaking the surface of the table. He rode his hand, reveling in the aftershocks, slowing his thrusts bit by bit until his mind returned to its normal state, and the feeling of his hands on his cock were just this side of too much. 

With an exhausted exhale, Derek plopped back down onto the couch, come and milk dripping off of his cock and onto the leather of the couch. Not that the mess bothered Derek any, he’d just have it cleaned. Hell, he’d just buy a new couch all together. 

He reached down to grab the bottle, which barely had any milk left, and took a long swig, draining the last of the bottle. 

Setting it to the side, Derek idly palmed his balls, enjoying the slight stings of over-sensitivity, while he watched the last of the porno in a fucked out haze. It wasn’t long before the omegas on screen were reaching their own climaxes, and Derek watched as they whimpered and moaned their way through, and the video faded out while the two snuggled in each other’s embrace. 

Derek closed the browser, turning off the TV, and just listened to the music which was still playing from the stereo. He sat on the couch and waited for his energy to return enough for him to get up from the couch. When he finally had the strength, he got up from the couch and walked through his apartment naked, his cock covered in his own release and the omega’s milk, dribbling on the floor as he made his way into his bathroom.

After his second shower for the evening, Derek climbed into his bed, too tired to put anything on. He checked his phone one last time which revealed a text from Erica reminding him about a conference call he had tomorrow. Derek fired off a quick response before he plugged his phone into the charger and set it on the night stand. 

Despite the fact that Derek had brushed his teeth and used mouthwash, he could still taste the omega’s milk on his tongue. 

Derek thought that the milk would help quell the burning ache in his stomach that demanded he see the omega again. But, instead, it had made the desire to see Stiles even _worse_ , and Derek knew that the only thing that would make this go away once and for all would be to see the omega again. Before Derek finally drifted off to sleep, he made a vow that tomorrow morning he would call the omega. 

He _would_ see Stiles once more. His sanity depended on it.

 

*  
*  
*


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek has spent far too long pining after Stiles and he is determined to finally contact him. 
> 
> The universe, however, has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there boys and girls (and those who don’t identify as either)!
> 
> I wasn’t going to post this until tomorrow, but I mustered together all of my remaining energy after a full day of work, and ta-da!
> 
> Nothing sexy happens in this chapter (I had to squeeze some plot in there _sometime_ ), but things get sexier in the next chapters. Also, there’s some Stiles in this chapter!
> 
> Before you read, I’ve mentioned before that Stiles is from Poland and he has an accent. I don’t like reading stories where writers try to write the accent because I find it a little distracting, so I didn't write it that way in this story (plus, I’m super bad at doing it anyway).
> 
> So, what we’re all going to do as we read Stiles’ lines is _imagine_ the most perfect Polish accent that has ever existed. That way, the dialogue isn’t choppy to read and I don’t showcase how horrible I am with writing accents!
> 
> As always, thank you for your love and support and putting up with my literary shenanigans! :D
> 
> ML.
> 
>  
> 
> No beta, so all mistakes are my own.

*  
*  
*

 

That morning, Derek was nearly late for a video conference call meeting. 

He was on the phone with Peter ( _again_ ), and between calming him down and making sure he had everything he needed for the office, he had forgotten to grab the slip of paper from his bedside table that had Stiles’ number. 

It wasn’t until Greenberg was halfway to the tower that he remembered. 

He knew he was really cutting it close on time, but with a growled, “fuck it,” he asked Greenberg to turn around and head back to his building. Once he had grabbed the number and was back in the car, Derek programmed the number into his phone.

Derek wasn’t entirely sure what this number was for. Stiles had mentioned being available for ‘private events’ which made it seem work related, but Derek wasn’t sure if it Dolce’s number or if Stiles had a separate work phone. Derek didn't even know if it was a landline or if it was a mobile phone. 

Either way, it was a way to contact the omega, and Derek didn’t give a damn where the number was for, as long as he was able to make an appointment with Stiles. 

Derek didn’t have an upcoming event that he needed to employ entertainment for, but he was not above planning an entire goddamn party around getting to see the omega again. 

Derek slid his phone into his suit pocket. Now that Derek had some sort of game plan, he felt much better. Clearing his thoughts, he tried to focus more on the work day ahead of him and less on Stiles. 

*

Derek made it to the office literally minutes before the conference call was supposed to start. 

Thankfully, Erica didn’t give him too much shit about it. She simply flashed him an unimpressed look as she handed him a file folder with client information and shooed him off toward the conference room. 

Boyd was already at sitting at the conference table, thumbing through his phone. He glanced up momentarily as Derek sat across from him and turned off his phone, sliding it into his suit pocket. 

“You look like shit,” he smirked. “Long night?” he raised his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Something like that,” Derek muttered. He opened the folder, giving the pages a once over. “You ready to do this?” 

“I was born ready, Hale,” Boyd grinned, sitting back into the chair and folding his hands together, "Keep up.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but connected the call. 

Ever the professional, Derek was able to get his head in the game and quickly. He managed to suppress all thoughts of Stiles and last night’s activities, and devote all of his attention to the conference call. 

Aside from being his best friend Boyd was Derek’s right hand man, and there was no one he trusted more to help Derek oversee the productivity of the Hale Enterprises. Each department head reported to Boyd, and Boyd condensed and reported it all to Derek. 

“Do you want to order something in for lunch?” The meeting only lasted about two hours, leaving Derek and Boyd free to get back to their normal work day routines. 

“I’m going to have to take a raincheck on that,” Boyd frowned, stopping to press the button for the elevators, “I’m swamped with meetings today. I’ve got to get ahold of the project manager from Argent’s team and we’ve got to go through the details to make sure both sides are in sync in next quarter’s schedule.”

Derek cringed. “Better you than me,” he muttered. “Keep me updated?”

Boyd pulled his phone out of his suit pocket, “If anything new pops up, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, assume everything is on track and running smoothly.”

Derek let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Boyd.”

“No problem,” he nodded. The elevator doors opened, and Boyd stepped inside. Before he pressed the button for his floor, he gave Derek another, more thoughtful look. “Seriously, Derek, you good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Derek nodded, waving a hand absently, “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“The Argent merger,” Boyd said, nodding solemnly. Derek didn’t correct his assumption. 

Boyd whistled, shaking his head. “You guys are crazy, man. I don’t know how the two of you pulled it off.”

“'Two of you’, nothing,” Derek scoffed. “It was all Peter. I just showed up and let him work his magic.”

“Some magic,” Boyd grinned. “You’re going to have one hell of a shareholders meeting next quarter once profits start rolling in.” 

Derek laughed. If Laura’s suspiciously restrained demeanor towards Derek and Peter in the hallways was anything to go by, things were about to be pretty fucking good for them. 

“Alright, man,” Boyd pressed the button for his floor, and the doors began to close. “I’ll hit you up later.”

Derek made his way into his office, shutting the door behind him, and sitting down at his desk. He had a lot of things going today, but his next meeting wasn’t for another hour, so he definitely had time to get lunch and call Stiles. 

He pulled out his phone, and thumbed through his contacts. 

His finger hovered over Stiles’ number, and he paused, feeling the butterflies in his stomach. 

“Just fucking do it, Hale,” he told himself. 

With a sharp exhale, his thumb pressed ‘call.’ 

Derek held the phone up to his ear, his fingers tapped the edge of the phone nervously with each ring. He felt the prickles along the back of his neck, his nerves triggering his fight or flight instinct, and triggering his desire to shift. He took slow breaths getting ahold of his wolf and focusing his thoughts. 

As it turns out, all of the worrying had been in vain. The phone rang several times until eventually Derek was met with the message: _The person you are trying to reach has a voicemail box that is full._

Derek ended the call and looked down at the screen, disappointed. 

It was still early in the day, and Derek refused to get too discouraged.

He would try again later. 

*

There were few things Derek hate more than reaching someone’s voicemail. _Especially_ if it was someone he really, really wanted to talk to. 

Derek had Stiles’ number six times so far, and every single time he had gotten the same recorded message.

_The person you are trying to reach has a voicemail box that is full._

It was more than a little disconcerting. 

The first time he’d reached Stiles’ voicemail, he thought nothing of it. But as the day wore on, and the more he ended up hoping to hear Stiles’ voice but was met with that recording, he began to get a little worried. 

Was Stiles _that_ busy that he was already booked for the day?

_The person you are trying to reach has a voicemail box that is full._

Full. 

Derek couldn’t fight the wave of possessiveness that rolled through him at the thought of Stiles being so in demand that dozens of alphas had already made appointments to meet with him. That Derek didn’t even have a chance to see him. 

_The person you are trying to reach has a voicemail box that is full._

Derek had never considered the idea that he’d have to make a reservation in advance. 

And if Stiles was this busy, to where he didn’t have space left on his voicemail, let alone the time to even answer his phone, Derek didn’t know when (or if) he would even be _able_ to see Stiles again any time soon. 

Growling under his breath, Derek shoved his phone back into his suit pocket a little more forcefully than he intended to. He wasn’t going to give up, but he each time he reached the recording, he felt himself lose a little more hope. 

*

Derek was on the phone with Peter when Erica walked into his office with a message. 

_“Dinner at Mom’s. 8 p.m. DON’T BE LATE. – Cora.”_

Derek rolled his eyes and nodded at Erica. 

“Peter, I talked to Boyd today, he said everything was running smoothly. Our team and AI’s team are on the same page, and everything is going according to plan.”

Derek grabbed a nearby pen and wrote something on the back of the folder in front of him, before holding it up to Erica. _Do I have to bring anything?_

Erica shrugged and wrote something else. 

“So he didn’t say anything else?” Peter prodded.

“Anything like what?” Derek sighed. He did not have time for this. 

“I don’t know,” he snapped impatiently. “Wasn’t he on the call?”

Erica held up her message, _Cora didn’t say. Just yourself, I guess. Flowers maybe?_

“No, Peter, Chris Argent wasn’t on the call. It was just Boyd, Argent’s right hand man and the two project managers, ours and his.” 

Derek scribbled something else on the folder. _Let Greenberg know?_

“Huh,” Peter huffed. “That’s strange.”

“Why is that strange, Peter. He’s busy, we’re busy, we both have other people on this.” Derek said, barely listening as he read Erica’s reply. “Besides, I thought he was calling you 24/7. Why are you suddenly concerned with his level of involvement. Has he stopped calling you?”

 _Already called Greenberg,_ Erica grinned smugly, _Your dry cleaning is being delivered, so you’ll have something to change into before you leave._

“He didn’t _stop_ calling me, he’s just been calling me …less,” Peter replied petulantly. 

Derek blew Erica a kiss, and wrote, _You’re a lifesaver. I’m so glad I hired you!_

“I thought that’s what you wanted; Argent laying the fuck off.”

Erica snorted and replied _I know I am. And you didn’t hire me, Laura did._ She stuck out her tongue and Derek chuckled. Erica left Derek’s office, shutting the door behind her. 

“Derek are you even _listening_ to me?”

Derek sighed forcefully. “Honestly, Peter, No. This is getting ridiculous and I have important shit to get done today. If you miss Argent so much, call him. Otherwise, unless you have something business related, I really need to get off the phone.”

“Fine!” Peter huffed. 

“By the way, we have dinner at mom’s tonight, 8 p.m.”

Peter groaned, “Shit, I completely forgot.”

“Well maybe if you could stop obsessing over Chris Argent for more than half an hour, you’d remember the fact that you have an entire life outside of this business deal.”

“Go fuck yourself, Derek,” Peter snapped, and then, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“See you at dinner.” 

Derek hung up the phone and dropped his head into his hands and let out a frustrated groan. Today was not going how he had planned. 

In an act of desperation, Derek pulled his cell phone out from his suit pocket and called Stiles again. 

_The person you are trying to reach has a voicemail box that is full._

He swore under his breath. 

Rationally, Derek knew that he had no reason to be so possessive over the omega. It’s not like he had any claim to him. But Derek couldn’t fight the feelings of possessiveness that told him that Stiles was _his_ omega. 

It was different than the biological twinges of possessiveness that showed up when Derek fucked an omega. Those feelings were instinctual and happened rather often. They didn’t really mean anything; they were instinctual. 

This, though. This felt different. 

There was something about the omega, _Stiles_ , that made Derek burn hot with desire, and the urge to protect and provide and procreate with him was much more than just something instinctual. 

Derek ended the call and set his phone on the desk. 

“Could today get any worse?” he grumbled.

“Well, you know I can’t ignore a good challenge.”

Derek looked up to see Boyd standing in the doorway. He looked tense and Derek could smell the anxiety that Boyd’s face would never betray. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked brusquely. 

“I got a call from the legal department. We’ve got a bit of a situation on the Pacifica contract.”

Derek sighed and stood up from his chair. He slipped his phone into his pants pocket, “Of course we do.” 

Boyd raised his eyebrows and Derek shook his head, waving his hand half-heartedly. “Shit day.”

Boyd nodded sympathetically, “Well it’s about to get a little bit shittier.”

The two men headed toward the elevator bank and Derek did his best to rein in his frustration. 

He really needed today to be over.

“What happened? You look cranky,” Boyd pressed the down button, then added, “-ier than usual.”

“I’m not cranky,” Derek grumbled, fighting the urge to pout. 

Boyd huffed a soft laugh, “O-kay.”

The two men stepped onto the elevator and headed down to the floor that held the offices for Legal. They rode in silence, both wrapped up in their own thoughts.

“I’ve just been trying to get ahold of someone and I keep getting their voicemail,” Derek said suddenly. 

“I fucking hate that,” Boyd turned to look at Derek. “You could stop calling. Make it look like you lost interest,” he shrugged. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Derek sighed. 

In his pocket, his hand unconsciously gripped his phone a little tighter. 

*

Talia Hale lived in a beautiful 3-story brownstone in Park Slope. Other than visiting his mother, Derek really didn’t often make it to Brooklyn. 

Derek’s mother had made monthly meals a tradition for the family. 

Everyone was always so busy, and despite their best efforts, they couldn’t always make time to see one another as much as they would have liked. Family dinners gave everyone a chance to reconnect and relax and just spend time around everyone. 

Talia had two rules for family dinner nights: 1. Everyone has to show up. 2. No discussions about work. 

She took them both very seriously. 

Derek changed clothes in his office and Greenberg picked him outside of the building. Erica, the angel that she was, had picked up a giant beautiful bouquet for Derek to take tonight. She also handed him a stack of papers that consisted of things he needed to sign and bring back to the office tomorrow.

In the car, Derek sat in the back with papers strewn about the seats, trying his best to sign in a steady hand while Greenberg drove. 

When he’d found a stopping point, he called Cora to see if she needed Greenberg to swing by and pick her up. 

“I’m not sure, I just got home from a movie,” she sounded out of breath. “It ran longer than I’d anticipated. I haven’t had time to change yet. Let me call you back in, like, two minutes?”

“Okay,” Derek set the flowers on the floor board and moved to another stack of papers awaiting his signature. “I just want to throw it out there that _you_ were the one who told _me_ not to be late tonight,” he grinned.

“Fucker,” she muttered, ending the call. 

By the time the car was passing through the East Village, Derek still hadn’t heard from Cora. 

He sent her a text: _??????_ , but Cora didn’t respond, so Greenberg continued on toward Brooklyn. 

As they were approaching the tunnel, and Derek was _finally_ on the last pile of papers, he began to sign as quickly as he could, trying to finish the pile before the car entered the tunnel. 

Even though the No Work rule didn’t kick in until he’d crossed his mother’s threshold, Derek’s guilt for even thinking about work kicked in the second he made it into Red Hook. 

Derek was on his last contract when his phone began ringing. 

He didn’t look at the screen, trying desperately to not misspell his name on the page, and slid his finger across the screen to answer the call and hold it to his ear. 

“You’re too late, Cora. We’re at the tunnel,” by some miracle, Derek signed the last paper just as the car entered the tunnel, and the car got significantly much darker. “You’ll have to see if Laura’s left yet and get a ride with her.”

There was static on the line, and Derek could only here bits and pieces of garbled speech. He knew he was going to lose the connection in the tunnel. 

“Cora, I can’t hear you. We’re in the tunnel. I’ll see you at mom’s, okay?”

The phone chirped and the call dropped. 

“Oh well,” Derek mumbled, tossing his phone on the seat next to him. 

He gathered all of the papers, making sure they were each paper clipped to the appropriate bundles, and slid them back inside of the large manila folder. He set the flowers on top of the folder and sat back in the seat, letting his mind decompress as they drove through Brooklyn.

 

The car pulled up to the house about twenty mintues later. 

Talia was standing on the front steps talking to a neighbor, and she smiled and waved at Derek as he got out of the car. When he made it up the steps, Talia pulled him into a giant hug, nearly crushing the flowers between them. 

“Hello, dear!” She kissed him on the cheek. “It’s great to see you.”

“Hi, mom,” Derek pulled back and presented her with the flowers, “I got you these.”

“Oh, Derek they’re lovely,” she grinned, taking the flowers from him. “Tell Erica she has lovely taste.”

Derek laughed, “I will.”

Once in the house, Derek took off his jacket and hung it up in the closet. He took a few steps down the hallway, heading toward the living room, when his mother called him back.

“Oh no you don’t, mister.” 

Derek turned around to see Talia looking at him accusingly, one hand on her hip and the other outstretched. “You know the rule.”

Derek sighed exaggeratedly and fished his phone out of his pocket, walking back over to his mother. 

Admittedly, all of the Hale children were terrible about staying off of their phones. It had been such a problem during Family Dinner, that Talia began taking their phones from them when they entered the house. 

Derek handed his phone to his mother, and as she wrapped her fingers around it, her thumb it the ‘home’ button and the screen lit up. 

Out of habit, Derek’s eyes slid down to the screen. He only got a quick glance, but what he saw made his blood run cold. 

“You’ll get this back when you leave,” Talia said, putting Derek’s phone into a large floral hat box. She put the lid back on the box and put it in the entry closet. “Now, come inside and say hi to your father. Laura arrived just a few minutes ago, too.”

Derek moved on autopilot as his mother led him into the living room, but his mind was entirely wrapped up in what he’d seen on his screen of his phone.

 

**Call Ended**  
_STILES  
00:11_

 

*

 

As enjoyable as dinner was, Derek was tense the entire evening. He was sure his family could smell the anxiety rolling off of him. At one point in the evening, Laura pulled him to the side to ask him if he was really alright. 

“Are you sure?” she said, her eyes searching his seriously. “I know mom has the No Work rule, but if it’s something serious-”

Derek shook his head, “It’s not, I promise,” he sighed. 

There was no way in hell he was going to tell his big sister that he was distressed about losing a call in the Brooklyn–Battery Tunnel from the expensive lactating sex worker he was obsessed with. 

“Is it about the merger? Do _I_ need to be worried?” she asked.

Derek shook his head again, “Things with AI are going well. It’s not work, I swear.”

She looked at him a bit longer and Derek bristled in annoyance.

“Seriously, Laura, can we drop it? I’m worked up, yes, but it’s nothing life threatening.”

“Because if it was, you’d tell me,” she said, her eyes locking with his, “because we’re family and we have each other’s back like that.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yes, because we’re family and we have each other’s back like that,” he repeated blandly.

Laura looked at him with faux scrutiny, “You’d better watch your tone, beta.”

Derek huffed a laugh, “You’re not Alpha yet, _beta_ ”

Laura grinned, gently elbowing Derek in the side. “But someday I will be. So you’d better mind how you talk to me now, because. I’m keeping a list," she waggled her eyebrows.

Derek laughed, “What like a naughty and nice list? What are you, Santa Claus?” 

“Ho ho ho, bitch.” Laura smiled, winking ridiculously and pulling Derek into a hug. 

“You’re the worst,” Derek said pushing away from her. 

From the dining room, they heard Talia raise her voice, calling out to them. 

“I know the two of you aren’t hiding out so you can secretly discuss work, and you’re going to come back into the dining room and sit with the family!”

“Coming, mom!” they both shouted at the same time. 

“Jinx,” Laura said to Derek, pushing Derek out of the way so she could walk out of the room first.

Derek shook his head, and followed his sister back into the dining room, where they rejoined the rest of the family for dessert. 

*

Cora, who had ended up having to catch a ride with Peter, much to both of their displeasure, rode with Derek on the way back to Manhattan. 

From the moment Talia had returned everyone’s phones, Derek could hardly think of anything else, but Stiles. As soon as he had his back in his hands, he immediately checked to see if there were any missed calls, only to find that there were none.

Derek sighed, slumping in defeat. 

At this point, after so many failed attempts, Derek wasn’t even sure if he should even _try_ to call again. He was so close to losing all hope, but he didn’t want to completely give up. 

He left his phone in his pocket until they’d dropped Cora off. Greenberg had barely pulled away from the curb before Derek retrieved his phone. He pressed “call,” and waited with bated breath while it rang and rang. 

“C’mon, you picked up before,” he muttered to himself, “just one more time, _please_.”

_The person you are trying to reach has a voicemail box that is full._

It took a herculean effort for Derek to not to crumple the phone in his hand. 

With a shaking hand, Derek slid his phone back in his pocket, and spent the entire ride back to his building staring out the window glaring at the passing surroundings. 

*

Derek took out his aggression on his treadmill, where he ended up beating his own personal record. Frustration was always one of the best motivators for Derek to work out, but this was the first time he had managed to leave a workout session without feeling any better than when he had gone in. 

After an especially hot shower , Derek grabbed a pint of ice cream, a beer (some high-end wolfsbane brew Peter had brought back from Tasmania) and his laptop, and climbed into bed.

The day had been a nightmare and Derek was _over_ it. 

Derek spend the last bit of his day eating ice cream, going through his emails, and watching bits and pieces of You’ve Got Mail. He sent out a few emails checking the status of ongoing projects.

While You’ve Got Mail was on a commercial break, and after Derek had helped himself to two more beers, he looked down at his phone which was sitting on the nightstand. 

On a whim, Derek picked it and half-heartedly hit “call”. 

_What are you doing?_ he thought to himself.

He had spent so much energy trying to contact Stiles and it just didn’t work out. He felt frustrated and defeated, but most of all, Derek just felt sad. 

He felt sad at the idea that he wouldn’t get to see Stiles again. He felt sad Stiles’ voicemail was perpetually full of an unknown number of alphas who wanted him. Derek felt sad at the idea that he never had a chance to begin with. 

Derek didn’t often allow himself to want things, but he had wanted this so, so much. He was devastated that it was over before it even had a chance to begin. 

After the fourth ring, Derek decided to end the call just so he wouldn’t have to hear that dreaded recording _one more time_. He had just moved the phone away from his head when the ringing stopped, and he heard a voice, “Hello?” 

Derek froze completely. 

The speaker’s voice was deep, much deeper than one typically heard from an omega, and Derek wasn’t exactly sure this was Stiles. 

“Helloooo?” the voice said again, in a sing-songey voice. The speaker’s voice was low timbered and captivatingly sexy. Derek felt all of his senses hone in on the voice and the speaker immediately had _all_ all of Derek’s attention.

“Yes!” he finally managed to blurt out. “Hi. Hello,” Derek paused and cleared his throat, “I’m here, sorry. Is this Stiles?” 

“Who is this?” the speaker asked. Derek could hear the curiosity, as well as suspicion, in his tone. There was plenty of noise in the back ground, as though he was in a crowded room. 

“My name is Derek,” he said, a little too loudly. With his werewolf senses, he was able to hear the small intake of breath. “I was given this number by Isaac?” he continued on hopefully. Derek moved the laptop off of his legs, and got out of bed, pacing nervously, “It was last week? I-I’m not sure if you remember me or not,”

“Derek!” he sounded unexpectedly delighted, “I remember you, yes!” Derek could hear the smile in Stiles’ voice and he absolutely _ached_. At that moment, he would have given anything to see that smile on his face. 

Derek’s entire body sagged in relief at the words, 'I remember you.' Derek wasn’t just another alpha or just another customer. Stiles _remembered_ him. 

“Of course I remember you!” Stiles replied excitedly. His voice was pure sex. It was so smooth and sensual, and it evoked images of tangled, sweat-soaked sheets and flushed come-covered skin. Stiles’ voice was much deeper than he would have attributed to an omega, but Derek swore that he could have listened to Stiles talk all day. Derek noticed that Stiles had a rather prominent accent. It sounded Eastern European, but he couldn't place exactly which country it was from. 

The sounds and voices in the background began to sound a bit distorted, as though the Stiles was quickly walking through the room. Finally, the background noise disappeared, and Derek could hear the sound of a door shutting. 

“Are you the one who has been calling me all day?” Stiles asked, an amused chuckle in his tone. 

Derek felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry,” he groaned, mortified. “Every time I called I kept getting the message for your voicemail saying it was full, so I just assumed you were…booked.”

There was a brief pause, and then a surprised. “I do not even _want_ to imagine what kind of shape I would be in if I had been _that_ busy all day,” he laughed, but not unkindly. His voice was warm with mirth. “I was busy, but not work busy. ”

Derek felt his shoulders sag in relief. He was simultaneously glad that Stiles was hadn’t been _entertaining_ other customers, and that he was even still willing to talk to Derek. 

“I did not think that you were going to call me.” Stiles said, his voice soft and intimate. 

It had been nearly a week since Stiles had given Derek his number. Derek was hoping that his delay in calling wouldn’t have been _that_ obvious, but apparently he was mistaken.

Did that mean Stiles was _hoping_ he’d call? 

Derek ran his free hand through his hair, sighing exasperatedly, “I didn’t mean to wait this long. Work has been a nightmare. My job is very demanding, and right now we’re in the middle of negotiating this really big merger, so things are crazier than usual.” 

“So I take it your business meeting went well then?” Stiles asked, seeming genuinely curious. 

At that, Derek laughed. 

He hadn’t thought much about it before, but just because Stiles was quiet while he was working, didn’t mean that he wasn’t listening to what his customers were saying. For a split second Derek was overcome with curiosity at the other things Stiles heard throughout his shifts at Dolce. 

“Yeah, it went well,” Derek smiled. “ _Really_ well, actually. I ended up ordering a bottle to have shipped to our client as a ‘welcome to the company’ gift.”

“So I remember,” Stiles chuckled softly. “Although, I do seem to remember filling _two_ orders,” he added in a lower voice, teasing gently. 

“The second one was for me,” Derek’s voice involuntarily dipped another octave and he could feel the beginnings of arousal stirring in his body. “It arrived yesterday.”

“Everything was satisfactory, I hope.” Stiles purred. Derek bit back a groan; Stiles' accent was doing major things to Derek's libido. 

A slow heat rolled through Derek’s body at the memory of exactly _what_ he had done with the bottle he’d received. He felt his cock chub up slightly, both at the memory of last night, and Stiles’ obvious flirtation. 

“It was absolutely exquisite,” Derek replied heatedly, and with a burst of courage, he added, “But it wasn’t as good as it was from the source.”

Derek could practically hear Stiles’ heart pick up its pace even over the phone. Derek reached down and palmed his cock just to take a bit of the edge off.

“As much as we like to keep our customers satisfied, we’re also supposed to leave them wanting more.” Stiles voice wrapped around Derek like silk, caressing him in all the right ways and filling him with utter _want_. 

“Well, at that, you’ve succeeded,” Derek said, his voice practically a growl. 

“So now that you have me on the phone, what is it that you would like?”

Derek felt his heart sink. 

Business. Of course. 

To Stiles, Derek was just a client. 

He thought back to the words scribbled on the note. 

Derek took his hand off of himself and cleared his throat. He needed to focus. And palming his cock while talking to the omega of his dreams was _not_ the way to stay on track.

“You said you were available for private parties?”

“Yes, I am.” If Derek were paying more attention, he would have noticed the way that Stiles seemed a bit disappointed at Derek’s sudden distance. 

“I would like to book you.” Derek wasn’t sure if this was the correct terminology or not. “Or, reserve you,” he added awkwardly. “Hire you?” Derek shook his head. “I would like to take you up on your offer of a private event,” he said finally. “I wanted to know if you would be available.”

Derek felt like an idiot. 

“Oh,” Stiles’ tone shifted slightly, sounding much less intimate and playful than it had before, and much more professional. Distant, almost. Which is not what Derek wanted. “Alright, sure. When is your party?”

Derek cringed. He didn’t want to have a party where he would have to _share_ Stiles. He wanted him all to himself. 

“Well, I thought I would see what your schedule looked like before I finalized the other details,” he lied, buying himself some time. 

“Give me a minute?” Stiles asked. 

“Sure, yeah.” Derek gestured awkwardly, “Take your time.” 

All sound immediately cut off from the other end of the call, as if the phone had suddenly been put on mute. 

Derek flopped backward onto the duvet, cringing at his awkwardness. He used the few moments he had to try and get himself under control before Stiles came back.

To Stiles, Derek was a job and this was a business transaction. And no matter how much Derek had enjoyed this delicious omega’s taste and voice and scent, it didn’t mean anything. Derek was just another customer. 

That thought sat like lead in his stomach. 

“Derek?” Stiles returned abruptly.

“Yes!” Derek said all too eagerly, “I’m here.” He sat up, running his free hand through his hair. 

“The weekends are not so good because I am busy at Dolce. But if you are amenable, my next available opening would be either Tuesday or Wednesday.” 

Derek thought he noted a bit of nervousness in Stiles’ voice, as if he was nervous about Derek’s reaction. 

“I know that weeknights are not so good for parties, but it is the soonest that I—”

“That’s perfect!” Derek interjected, his heart beating faster at the chance to see the omega again.

“Really?” Stiles said, his voice sounding disbelieving, but hopeful. “Yes?” 

Derek was so desperate to see Stiles again, that it really didn’t matter _what_ day Stiles said he was available. Derek would have made time for him.

“Yes,” Derek smiled. “Would Wednesday work for you?”

“Wednesday is perfect,” Stiles said. “How many guests are you inviting?”

Derek wasn’t sure how to respond. If he _needed_ to, he could invite Boyd or Peter over, or maybe a few others, for a small event at his house. If Stiles wasn’t offering a one-on-one, if he _only_ was offering a party, then Derek would take what he could get. 

But he really would have _preferred_ something more private. 

“Do you have any sort of….limits? Or parameters in terms of numbers of guests?” he asked, awkwardly.

“Well, if I am the only form of lactating entertainment, then I am afraid so,” he said tentatively, almost regretfully. “It is more about supply and demand. Will it be just me?”

“Yeah, it’ll be just you,” Derek answered.

“Then, perhaps if I am to provide for everyone, no more than 5 guests?” Stiles sounded uncertain. 

Derek felt a shiver of irrational jealousy shoot through him at the thought of Stiles being shared by _four other people_ all while Derek had to watch. Even if they were people that Derek knew and trusted, he knew it would be a nightmare.

Fuck that. 

He wanted the omega for himself. 

“And do you have a minimum?” He hoped he was able to keep the possessive growl out of his voice. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare Stiles off.

“A minimum?” Stiles asked, confused.

Derek stood up and started pacing near his bedside again, “A minimum requirement for how many you entertain?”

Stiles made a noise of understanding.

“Well, that depends how _private_ you want this private event to be,” Stiles all but purred, his voice dipping back down into the almost flirtatious tone he had had earlier. 

Derek felt chills run down his back at the change in timbre. If this was a conversation with anyone else, someone who wasn’t negotiating a business deal, Derek would have sworn Stiles was actually flirting with him. 

He figured he might as well lay all of his cards out on the table. 

The worst Stiles could say was ‘no’.

“So if it were just the two of us, would that be alright?” Derek screwed his eyes shut, biting his lip, hoping desperately this wouldn’t be the thing to send Stiles running. 

“That would be perfect,” all of the warmth that had been absent from Stiles voice came rushing back, and it sounded as though he was smiling again. Derek thought his heart was going to burst forth from his chest, and then, Stiles added, “It is, uh—It is…. _preferred_ , actually.” 

At that Derek raised his eyebrows in surprise. It sounded almost as though Stiles _wanted_ it to only be the two of them.

Derek cleared his throat, “Do you do one-on-ones often?”

“No,” Stiles said firmly in that deep, private voice. 

Something finally clicked in Derek’s mind. 

The hostess, Lydia, had rattled off all of the perks that came with membership, and Isaac had mentioned all the services in the bar had to offer. As thorough both of them were in their explanations, neither of them mentioned _any_ off-the-menu private meetings between omegas and customers.

They had specifically designed the customer screening process and the bar’s security protocol to protect the anonymity of the omegas and maintain a safe working environment. And sending an omega off to an alpha for an unsupervised one-on-one was not synchronous with Dolce’s business practices.

Stiles didn’t give Derek a phone number printed on a fancy Dolce business card; it was scribbled on a scrap of paper in Stiles’ own handwriting. And Dolce was far too classy of an establishment with too elite of a guest list to go an entire day with a full voicemail box. 

This wasn’t a business phone, this was _Stiles’_ phone. 

Which meant that this wasn’t a Dolce sponsored arrangement. This was freelance. 

Stiles wanted to see Derek again. Stiles had _chosen_ him. 

Derek nearly growled in satisfaction at being sought out and selected by this beautiful, elegant omega. He was almost drunk with the sensation of trust that was overwhelming him. 

Stiles didn’t know Derek from anyone else at Dolce. Inside the bar, he was protected by the security and the extensive background checks that the customers had to undergo to even get their name on the list, let alone past the front door. Stiles was putting himself in a very vulnerable position in attempts to see Derek again, and Derek would do everything in his power to make sure that omega didn’t regret his decision to take such a risk. 

“Would my apartment be okay?” Derek could hardly hold back his gravelly tone to his voice. “I can have a car pick you up from your place and bring you here.” There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “Unless you’re not comfortable with that,” he amended quickly, not wanting the omega to back out because of Derek’s exuberance. 

“Um,” Stiles started speaking, but in the background, Derek could hear the door opening, and the sound of someone entering the room. “Your place is fine, but, um-”

Derek heard another voice speaking in harsh whispers. And even though Derek couldn't hear what they were saying, there was the unmistakable edge in the voice that told Derek that it was not only a Were, but an _alpha_. 

“Would you mind holding on for a moment again?” Stiles said, flustered. 

“Yeah, sure.”

The phone was muted again, and Derek let out a deep breath. 

Stiles wasn’t _his_. So what if he was spending time with another alpha. That didn’t change the fact that Stiles wanted to see Derek. 

Derek’s thoughts were wandering again, and he could feel the possessive jealousy from earlier creeping back into his veins. The jealously, combined with the Derek’s arousal, caused Derek to feel the deep, instinctual desire to **claim** and mark what was his, to let everyone know Stiles was off limits. 

Derek shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. 

_Stiles isn’t yours. You have no right to_ claim _him_. 

The sound on Stiles’ end of the line abruptly came back, and Derek could hear the sound of someone else in the room. Stiles wasn’t alone. 

“You can give me your address, and I will get there myself,” he said. 

That made sense. He probably didn’t feel comfortable with Derek knowing where he lived. 

“Yes, of course, whatever you’d like,” he agreed eagerly. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Derek heard the sound of the other male whispering again. Stiles hurried to cover the speaker with his hand, but Derek’s enhanced hearing allowed him to hear the sounds of people arguing with one another. 

“Would you hold on for a moment?” Stiles said, annoyed, before muting the phone, not waiting for Derek to reply. He didn’t know who this other male was, but he was a little curious as to what the argument was over. 

While he was on mute, Derek took the beer bottles and empty ice cream container into the kitchen. He checked future airings of You’ve Got Mail and set his DVR to record one of them, and then brushed his teeth. 

Just as he was starting to wonder if Stiles had forgotten about him, he came back on the line. 

“Perhaps you would like to come to the club again?” Stiles’ voice sounded rushed, “So that we can see each other before our appointment?” 

This was a complete surprise. 

While Derek wasn’t expecting it, he couldn’t see a reason why not. 

He already felt a little desperate inviting Stiles over to his house for a private meeting, and he hated that he had to wait and entire _week_ to see the him again. Maybe another night at the club would make things seem less weird.

And, Derek didn’t mind, really. 

“I could leave an invitation for you at the front desk,” Stiles spoke quickly, his voice sounding uncertain, as if he was nervous that Derek would decline or call off the whole meeting all together. “That would get you automatically in and would not have to fuss with a wait list, or anything.” 

“That’s a great idea, actually.” If Stiles felt more comfortable seeing Derek in person one more time before their meeting, then Derek was absolutely on board with that plan. “I’d love to,” he smiled, the tightness in his chest from earlier dissipating. 

“Okay!” Stiles said, happily. “Yeah, that is—” he broke off into a delighted laugh. “I will put your name on the list.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Can you come tomorrow?” the excitement in Stiles’ voice was contagious, and Derek couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. 

“Tomorrow is perfect.” Derek’s heart felt so full of warmth, he thought he’d catch fire. 

“Okay! I will- I will leave your name up front.” The other person in the room began whispering, and Stiles sighed. “I’m sorry, Derek, but I have to go.”

“No, that’s fine, I understand. I’ll let you get back to your evening.” It did sound as though Stiles was in a crowded room when he first answered. Derek wasn’t sure what Stiles was doing, but he knew that he was in the middle of something. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Stiles.”

“I will see you tomorrow,” Derek didn’t need to see Stiles to know that he was grinning. “Oh, and Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you finally called.”

After so many failed attempts to contact Stiles today, Derek had nearly given up. If he hadn’t given it one last try, he might not ever had seen or heard from Stiles ever again.

“I am too, Stiles,” Derek smiled.

 

*  
*  
*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *  
> *  
> Please pardon any errors. Tomorrow when I wake up I'll look at it again and fix what I didn't catch before I posted it. I'm so tired and my eyes feel like they're going to melt and drip down my face. 
> 
> [I like to imagine that Derek loves "chick flicks" from the 80s and 90s (especially romcoms) and secretly binge-watches them when they're on tv. Like, he'll call into work and have Erica reschedule all his important things because "something came up," that 'something' being a marathon on WE, or Lifetime or Bravo.] 
> 
> All of my knowledge of the geography of New York is based on what I've seen on google maps and episodes of Real Housewives of New York (I know, I know.... That show is complete trash, but so am I, so let me be trash in peace!). I'm sure there's a way to get from Manhattan to Brooklyn (Park Slope, specifically) much more efficiently, but, for the sake of the story, this is what I went with, haha. 
> 
> Next chapter will be up soon! 
> 
>  
> 
>   
> (this image is not mine)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *
> 
> Lydia turned to Derek, smiling brightly.
> 
> “Welcome back, Mr. Hale. I didn’t think we’d see you back so soon. Have you reconsidered a membership?” she asked teasingly, if not a little smugly.
> 
> “Still considering,” Derek chuckled softly.
> 
> “Mr. Hale here has an invitation,” Malia said, eyes locked on the other patrons in the room.
> 
> “How lucky for Mr. Hale,” Lydia responded. “I’ll go ahead and seat you, sir.” she said, reaching toward the stack of menus.
> 
> “He’s not in the dining room,” Malia called over her shoulder, “He’s in the Velvet Lounge tonight.”
> 
> “The Velvet Lounge?” Lydia quirked an eyebrow, her eyes full of mischief. “Lucky, Mr. Hale, indeed,” she grinned lasciviously.
> 
> *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Please check out the updated tags; all there are some warnings and explanations about the exhibitionism/voyeurism tags in the end notes. If there's anything else you think I should tag/mention as a warning, please let me know!
> 
> **UPDATE** I've included photos in the end notes for things that served as visual inspiration this chapter. I get all of my images from Pinterest, but it was brought to my attention that some readers weren't able to access the pictures, and instead were given a very stern warning by INTERPOL. I certainly don't want anyone to be put on some sort of watchlist or something, so I've decided to just post the images to avoid getting anyone in trouble. **NSFW images in the end notes, so scroll with caution.**
> 
> Chapter Inspiration: _Nasty Naughty Boy_ Christina Aguilera
> 
> (In this AU, Malia is not related to the Hales.)

*  
*  
*

  
  
The next day, Derek was left with a sort of nervousness that he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

Derek rarely, if ever, felt nervous in the office. In fact, he thrived on the thrill of the competitive business environment, and often things that probably should have made him nervous, left him with an insatiable hunger to win, defeat, _conquer_. 

Derek knew what he was doing at the office. But this was different. Derek had no fucking idea what to expect about tonight, and he kind of liked it. It was rare that Derek didn’t know how a situation was going to play out, and _everything_ regarding Stiles had been full of surprises. 

In the short time Derek had known him, Stiles had shaken up Derek’s life quite a bit, and every encounter proved to be full of surprising twists and turns. When it came to Stiles, Derek had no control over anything. 

And it felt _amazing._

Derek was in a meeting with Boyd and the marketing department when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He slid the phone out of his pocket enough to see that he had 2 text messages, both from Stiles. 

**Try to get there at 10:30 tonight** , and then 47 minutes later, **If you still want to come.**

Derek knew he was out of touch with the trendy crowd, because his first thought was _Isn’t that a little late?_ (Derek made the mistake once of saying that in front of Cora. She still hasn’t let him live that down.)

“Play it cool,” he muttered to himself. He thumbed out a quick reply: **Sounds perfect. I’ll see you tonight.**

Stiles replied with a smiley face emoji with heart eyes. Derek was smiling so hard for the rest of the meeting that Boyd actually looked concerned. 

That evening, Derek left the office _on time_ for the first time in years, and judging by the raised eyebrow and the confused, “Have a nice weekend, Mr. Hale,” Erica gave him as he left, his unusual behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

If Derek wasn’t so excited about his getting to see Stiles, he would have embarrassed, but Derek couldn’t find it within himself to care. So instead, he flashed a bright grin and waved, “You too, Erica!” which nearly caused her to fall out of her chair. 

The anticipation alone had Derek in a state of low-grade arousal while he squeezed in a quick workout, showered, and dressed for the evening. He trimmed his beard was perfectly trimmed and that his hair was styled to perfection. He didn’t feel like a suit and tie, so he chose something a little less casual, but no less disarming. Derek felt so good about himself today and he wanted to make sure it showed.

Derek knew he wasn’t going to be taking Stiles home, but he wanted to make one hell of an impression; something to separate himself from the other customers the omega was going to have that night. He wanted to leave Stiles feeling as excited about their future planned night together as much as possible. 

He was in the front of the penthouse waiting for Greenberg’s call, scrolling through his phone and checking the scores for the day’s baseball games so far, when the screen minimized, and he got the notice of an incoming call. 

**Cora.**

Derek swiped the screen to answer the call. 

“What are you hiding?” she began without preamble. 

“I’m doing well, Cora. Thanks for asking,” Derek snorted. “And how are _you_ this lovely evening?” 

“I called your office,” Cora steamrolled on, ignoring Derek’s snark. “Your assistant said you left early.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I didn’t leave early. I just left on time.” 

“So, for you, _early_ ,” she reiterated. “And you were acting totally weird at mom’s last night, don’t think I didn’t notice. What’s wrong?”

Derek sighed, sitting down on the back of the couch. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I just…” 

He didn’t want to tell Cora, but he didn’t want to keep it from her either. 

If Derek mentioned that he was meeting someone, Cora might make it into _a thing._ If he didn’t tell her, and she found out later, she would accuse him of hiding something from her. And, honestly, it wasn’t an issue of Telling Her verses Not Telling Her. 

Derek simply just wanted to keep it to himself. He was a really private person, especially when it came to his love, life because he was so bad at it. 

Scratching his temple, he decided to just go with, “Yeah, I’m fine, I just…I had plans this evening.”

Not lying, but not going into detail. 

Cora paused for so long that Derek actually thought the call had gotten dropped. 

He tilted his head away from the phone, checking the screen, to make sure the call hadn’t disconnected when he finally heard a skeptical: “You? _You_ have plans on a Friday night? That you left work _early_ for?”

“ _On time_ ,” he grunted bitterly, “Not early.”

Cora was silent for a beat, and then, “Okay. Well, never mind then.” It sounded like she was trying to hold back a smile. 

She sounded suspiciously nonchalant, like she knew Derek was up to something he normally wasn’t up to. She also sounded uncharacteristically uninterested, which, historically meant she was up to something. 

“Never mind, what?” he responded a little too defensively. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“Nothing.” He could definitely hear the smile in her voice now. “I was going to invite you out to get drinks with me tonight. My friend Aadhira – you remember Aadhira, don’t you?— is visiting and we thought we’d all go out and paint the town red.”

Derek let out a soft sigh of relief at the fact that she wasn’t going to tease him. At least to his face. 

“Well, you and Aadhira have fun then.” He stood up again and made his way to the mirror near the front door, checking to make sure he hadn’t ruined his hair. 

“We will.” Derek had no doubt about that. Cora and her friends never passed up the opportunity to have a good time. “Well if your _plans_ fall through, give me a call.”

“They won’t, but thanks anyway.” 

Cora ended the call sounding unusually chipper, and Derek stood there for a moment just looking down at his phone. 

He was half tempted to text to asking her not to mention anything to their mother, but he knew that if he did that, then Cora would _definitely_ know something was up and it would likely increase the chances that she would tell her. Then, God forbid, the two of them would gang up on him which was a nightmare Derek did _not_ have the time or energy to deal with. 

He slid his phone in his pocket, deciding against bringing it up, and hope for the best. If one of them questioning him about his love life was bad, the two of them was _worse_. 

Three minutes later, Greenberg called, and Derek pushed thoughts of Cora and his mother out of his head as he locked up the apartment and headed down to the to the car. 

 

*

Greenberg dropped Derek off out front like last time before driving away into the night. 

For a brief moment, Derek had the fluttering sensation of nervousness in his stomach. He knew he looked good tonight, but he was worried that maybe Stiles would see him and change his mind about wanting to come to Derek’s apartment.

Maybe Stiles would change his mind about Derek in general. 

While he would never admit it out loud, he was a worried that perhaps he wouldn’t be enough for Stiles. The pool of affluent, powerful alphas who came through Dolce’s doors was endless. Derek knew that there were way more interesting alphas, who were much more attractive, and had more money who came in on a regular basis. 

Perhaps Stiles was attracted to Derek thinking that he was like one of those alphas. Maybe Stiles thought that Derek was one of the overly charismatic alphas who just had a way with everyone, who showed their interest by lavishing omegas with gifts and money in attempts to show what a high caliber provider they were. 

Perhaps the reality of a somewhat reclusive, workaholic alpha in his late thirties wouldn’t be as exotic or exciting for Stiles, and he’d realize what a mistake he had made. 

Derek took a breath to steel himself. Whether Stiles liked him or not was out of Derek’s hands, so there was no sense overthinking it before he’d even gone in the damn building. 

_He invited you, remember? He_ wants _to see you,_ he reminded himself for the thousandth time that night. 

There was only one way to find out if Stiles would be disappointed or not. 

Derek pulled himself together, opened up the door to Dolce, and made his way inside. 

*

The lobby was a little busier than it was last weekend. 

Near the door, practically blocking it, were three alphas huddled in toward one another conversing in hushed tones. He stepped around them, moving further into the room. On the couch, there was a party of six waiting on the sofas, chattering amongst themselves in a language that Derek couldn’t immediately recognize, but he thought might have been Portuguese. 

Like last time he was here, the twins were working the oak doors to the dining room. Derek noticed that while one of them stared ahead stoically, the other one was openly staring at the huddle of alphas near the front, keeping a watchful eye on their suspicious behavior. 

Derek walked past the couch and headed toward the hostess counter, which was currently unoccupied. He stood in front of the counter somewhat awkwardly, trying to tamp down the self-doubt that had been flitting through his head the entire day. 

Eventually the large oak doors opened and a fair skinned woman with shoulder-length, chestnut colored hair entered the lobby. Her eyes met his as she approached the counter and they raked over his form in assessment. Derek could tell immediately that she was an alpha.

“Good evening, sir,” She smiled politely, but somewhat distantly. “What can I do for you?” She sounded as though she was trying to be cordial, but Derek sensed that she literally could not have cared less about what he had to say. 

Derek cleared his throat and gave her as charming of a smile as he could manage, trying to make a good impression. “I’m here to see someone.” 

The woman nodded and began typing something into the computer. “May I see your identification and your membership card, please?”

Derek felt his heart sink. “I don’t have a membership.”

“Alright. Then, can I get the name of your reservation?”

Derek sighed. “I don’t have one of those either.” 

The woman’s eyes darted back up to his with a quick flash of suspicion. “I’m sorry sir, but I’m afraid we don’t allow walk-ins,” she said in rehearsed sympathy. 

Derek caught the subtle twitch of her nostrils and realized that she was scenting him. 

_She must be a Were as well._

Derek made sure his heartbeat was steady so she’d be able to tell that he wasn’t trying to be deceitful. “I was invited.” 

She quirked an eyebrow, “You were invited?” Derek was sure she didn’t mean to sound so openly skeptical, but she was kind of bad at this whole ‘dealing with other people’ thing. 

“It was short notice,” he tried. “A friend of mine told me they’d leave an invite for me.”

She stared at him a moment longer, silently assessing him. Her demeanor was very intimidating, making Derek feel uncertain and on edge. For half a second, Derek considered trying to recruit her for Hale Enterprises. She’d be one hell of an asset during a business meeting. 

Eventually, her eyes flitted back to the computer screen. “Name?”

“Hale, Derek.” He swallowed thickly.

Her fingers moved swiftly over the keys, her eyes scanning the screen. 

“You’ve been here before.” She wasn’t asking.

“Yes, last weekend.” He slid his hands into his pockets, then thought better of it and decided to leave them at his side in case she thought he was trying to hide something. 

“A guest of Mr. Peter Hale’s.”

“Yes.” Derek felt a slight prickle of nervousness at the back of his neck. 

_Guest of_? 

He made a mental note to ask Peter if he was a member, and if not, then find out how the fuck Peter had managed to get a reservation on such short notice. 

Something on the screen caught her attention and her eyebrows rose in surprise. She looked back up at Derek with that same professional smile as before. “It seems there was an invitation left for you this evening.” 

Relief coursed through him and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“It’s not for dining services though,” she held out her hand expectantly and Derek reached in his pocket to get his wallet out. Derek handed her his identification and she began inspecting its authenticity. 

“Oh?” Derek furrowed his brows in confusion. “That’s fine,” he added. 

Fridays seemed to be a very busy night, so they were probably booked well in advance. Derek wouldn’t mind sitting at the bar or something. As long as he got to see Stiles, he didn’t care where he was seated. 

The oak doors opened up again and Lydia entered the room, briefly eyeing the people who were waiting on the sofa. 

She walked over to the podium, opening up a drawer and slipping a ring of keys inside. She smiled at Derek and turned her head to the woman inspecting Derek’s ID.

“Malia, we’ve got a booth that’s just finishing up. It’s got to be cleaned first, then we can seat the party of 6.”

The woman, Malia, slipped Derek’s identification into the drawer, locking it shut. 

“And them?” Her head nodded to the huddled alphas near the front door.

Lydia glanced at them and something behind her eyes darkened. “How long have they been here?”

“About 20 minutes. Out-of-towners. They said their membership cards were misplaced, yet they didn’t seem to want me to try to search in the system.” Malia turned to Lydia, her eyes briefly flashing blue, before switching back to something more human. “I don’t trust them.”

“What are they doing now?” Lydia’s eyes squinted in suspicion. 

Malia rolled her eyes. “They said they’re trying to contact a local friend of theirs who has a membership.” 

“Don’t let them in.” Lydia said firmly. “Inform them that you’re sorry they were unable to find their cards, but they will not be allowed in tonight.” 

“And if they object?”

Lydia gave Malia a look that meant business. “Then _remove_ them.” 

“You got it.” Malia let out the first genuine smile that Derek had seen from her since she’d entered the room.

Lydia’s demeanor lifted as she turned to Derek and she smiled brightly. “Welcome back, Mr. Hale. I didn’t think we’d see you back so soon. Have you reconsidered a membership?” She asked teasingly, if not a little smugly. 

“Still considering,” he chuckled softly.

“Mr. Hale here has an invitation,” Malia said, her eyes locked on the cluster of suspicious patrons near the front. One of them looked at her, the sour scent of ill-intent rolling off him in waves, and Malia walked out from behind the counter to go speak to them. 

“How lucky for Mr. Hale,” Lydia responded. “I’ll go ahead and seat you, sir.” She said, reaching toward the stack of menus. 

“He’s not in the dining room,” Malia called over her shoulder, “he’s in the Velvet Lounge tonight.”

“The Velvet Lounge?” Lydia quirked an eyebrow, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Lucky, Mr. Hale, _indeed_ ,” she grinned lasciviously. 

*

Lydia led Derek through the oak double doors that led to the rest of the bar. As they passed through the doorway, the twin security guards ignored Derek, but he was pretty sure he saw one of them wink at Lydia as she walked by. 

The dining room was just as breathtakingly atmospheric as Derek remembered. Tonight was even more crowded than last weekend and every table was full of enthusiastic guests and willing omegas. 

Derek felt the arousal stirring deep in his belly from the scent of arousal in the room. He popped his claws only slightly, and he scraped them against his palms in a gently rhythm to keep his mind focused and distract him from the _dozens_ of lactating omegas and the heavy scent of omega slick that filled the air. 

They walked through the dining room – passing the booth that Derek, Peter and Chris had sat in last time he was here— and onwards toward the back of the large dining room where the large bar spanned from one end of the room to the other. 

The back wall of the bar was composed of giant mirrors that provided an exquisite view of the activities going on in the room behind them. Several customers were enjoying their drinks while indulging their more voyeuristic tendencies, and observing the titillating acts going on in the main dining room. 

Most of the seats at the bar were occupied, some discreetly watching the action in the mirrors and some turned around and staring unabashedly. 

Behind the bar were two bartenders, both wearing white button down shirts with black bow ties and black slacks. There were two beautiful topless omegas wearing elaborately jeweled thongs and headdresses. One of the omegas stood against the bar, his elbows resting on the bar top and his chest thrust outward, allowing a customer to sip from his breast. The omega looked up, locking eyes with Derek, and winked teasingly. 

Derek looked away, feeling a flush appear on his cheeks. 

He redirected his eyes to the bar, eyeing the selection of drinks. The shelves of the bar were stocked with just about every top brand of liquor Derek had ever heard of, including several various brands from around the world. 

“You can wait here until it’s time to be seated in the lounge,” Lydia smiled, gesturing to one of the empty seats at the bar. 

Derek sat down, feeling a little uncertain as to what he was supposed to be waiting for exactly. 

“You can have a drink if you’d like. We have a very large selection of mixed drinks, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic.” 

One of the bartenders was a few feet away pouring a drink for another customer, but he looked up and gave Derek and Lydia a giant smile. 

“I’ll be right with you, sir,” he said enthusiastically.

Derek nodded and looked back toward Lydia, who was holding out a printed ticket. 

“Do not lose this,” she said, holding the ticket out importantly. “If you do, you won’t be able to get in to the Velvet Lounge.”

Derek took the ticket and looked it over. Derek looked down at the ticket in his hand. It was printed on black paper with gold embossed lettering that read **VELVET LOUNGE: VIP Guest Pass. One Visit Only**. 

“What do I do with this?”

Lydia turned and pointed to the far end of the bar. Derek noticed that on the wall there was a doorway, framed by elaborate curtains, reminiscent of the curtains on the booths in the dining room. 

The curtains were tied back with thick golden ropes, with large opulent tassels that hung down nearly touching the floor. Above the curtained doorway was an elaborate Victorian lamp fixture with a beaded fringe lamp shade. The light was turned on, but it didn’t seem to be providing much light to the area, and Derek got the sneaking suspicion it wasn’t supposed to light the area, but was used for some other purpose. In front of the doorway, was a small velvet rope, blocking off the entrance from the rest of the bar area. 

“When that light is on, that means there’s a show in progress,” Lydia said. “Once people empty out, Scott,” she pointed to the curly haired bartender, “or one of the other staff members, will take your ticket, and you will be allowed to enter.”

At the mention of his name, the bartender looked over at the two of them. 

“Scott, this is _Derek_ ,” she said to him. Derek wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw something like familiarity flash in Scott’s eyes at the mention of his name. But the look was gone just as soon as it appeared. “Make sure you take good care of him.” Lydia winked. 

“You got it.” Scott smiled at Lydia. 

“Remember,” Lydia looked back at Derek, “no ticket, no entrance.” She tapped the paper in Derek’s hand. “Hang on to that. Have fun!”

She gave him one last smile, and left the bar, weaving back through the crowd as she made her way to the front lobby. 

Derek slipped the ticket in his pocket for safe keeping, and then picked up a nearby menu. When Scott finished up with his customer, he walked over to Derek. 

“What can I get you, Derek?” 

Derek could smell that the bartender was also a werewolf, and no doubt an alpha. 

“Uh…” Derek’s eyes scanned the menu, but there were too many options. “What do you recommend?”

“Tonight’s special is a White Russian,” Scott grinned. “It’s been pretty popular this evening.”

Too many options usually left Derek a little flustered when someone was waiting on him, so he decided just to trust Scott’s recommendation. 

“I’ll have that,” Derek said. 

Scott nodded, turning around to grab the coffee liqueur and vodka from the shelves behind him, and coming back to stand in front of him. He watched as Scott mixed his drink, pouring the liquid over the ice in the glass. 

Before sliding the drink to Derek, however, he looked over at the female omega working the other end of the bar, nearest the elaborate velvet curtained doorway, and signaled her over.

The female omega, much like the male omega who Derek saw at the opposite end of the bar, was wearing a similar jeweled thong and headdress. She looked to be of eastern Asian descent, and she had beautiful, dark brown eyes that drew Derek in. Despite their engaging intensity, Derek could see the playfulness in her eyes as well. 

She too was topless, and her dusky nipples were pearled with droplets of milk. She sauntered over to Derek’s place at the counter, smiling sensuously, and leaned with her against the counter. The front of her body was practically pressing up against Derek’s side. 

“Well hello there,” her eyes twinkled in delight. 

“Hello,” Derek tried his best to keep his voice even in front of the very beautiful omega.

“Can I interest you in a drink?” She smirked, arching her back subtly, pushing out her chest. 

A single drop spilled from the tip of her nipple and landed on the knee of Derek’s pants. Derek stared at the dark spot on his knee from the milk droplet, and looked back up at the omega, his eyes taking in her generous chest. 

“No thank you,” he smiled politely, “I’m not thirsty.” He cleared his throat and forced himself to meet her eyes. 

“You’re not thirsty?” she pulled back slightly, giving him a look of playful assessment. “It’s not often I meet an alpha in here who _isn’t_ thirsty,” she smiled teasingly. 

“I mean, I am thirsty,” he swallowed thickly, trying to get ahold of himself, “I just- I ordered a drink already.” 

“This is _Derek_.” 

(Derek had completely forgotten Scott was even standing there.)

At the mention of Derek’s name, saw the same flash of familiarity pass her face, before it disappeared completely. 

“Derek ordered a White Russian,” Scott waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Scott set the glass on the bar, but slid it past Derek and toward the omega. 

The omega grinned slyly, “Well, let’s finish up that drink for you, Derek.” 

With one hand, she picked up the glass containing Derek’s drink, her eyes connecting with his. The other hand she trailed up her torso slowly and sensually, her fingers dancing over her skin, until it reached her very full chest. 

“So, Derek Who Isn’t Thirsty, what brings you here tonight?” She cupped one breast, kneading it slowly, while she cocked her head to the side, staring at Derek. 

She plucked her nipple a few times, before taking the fullness of her breast in her hand, and massaging with more intention. 

“Uh—” Derek’s eyes dropped back down to her hands and the way they teased her skin. He knew he was supposed to answer her question, but he was a little distracted by the omega fondling herself just inches in front of his face. 

(Later, when he wasn’t this close to a topless, lactating omega, he’d feel embarrassed about how little control he had over himself.) 

“Derek here has a guest invitation,” Scott supplied, hiding a smirk. “To the _Velvet Lounge_.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Derek bristled in confusion; he wasn’t sure how Scott knew that, seeing as how Lydia hadn’t told him that it was a guest invitation. 

“ _Really_ now?” She smiled, teasing. “How lovely.” The omega brought Derek’s drink to her breast, squeezing her breast firmly until her milk began to flow more steadily into Derek’s drink. 

Derek couldn’t help himself, he stared openly as the omega used _her own milk_ to add the finishing touches to Derek’s White Russian. 

“Are you considering a membership, Derek?” She squeezed her breast, pinching her nipple every now and then, all the while staring directly at Derek, who was staring directly at her breast. 

“What?” he asked belatedly, his eyes darting back up to her face after her words finally registered. “No. I mean, I- um—someone left me an invitation for tonight.”

He popped the claws on the hand by his side, the one she couldn’t see, and pressed them into the meat of his thigh, using the pain to rein in the overwhelming lust so he could focus. 

She tilted her head to the side, “Who left you this invitation?” She switched the glass from one hand to the other, and used her other hand to squeeze her other breast. 

“A friend.”

“And is this _friend_ going to be joining you for tonight’s performance?” Scott asked, his voice sounding almost falsely curious. For a second, Derek thought Scott’s tone seemed to be teasing, as if he knew something Derek didn’t. But his mind got caught up on something else that Scott had said. 

Performance?

Derek thought about lying, but he remembered that the bartender was a Were and would be able to tell, so he thought he’d just stick to the truth, no matter how awkward it made him feel.

“No, it’s just me tonight. I’m alone.”

The female omega grinned mischievously. Derek had the distinct feeling of being a fly trapped in the web of two very devious spiders.

“So you, a non-member, received an invitation, yet you’re here alone, and you’re not meeting anyone later.” She pinched her nipple one final time, letting the last drops fill his drink, and she set it on the bar. 

“That must be some _friend_ you have.”

She slowly pushed the glass toward Derek with one finger, her eyes still locked with his. Her mouth was curled in a mischievous smirk, and Derek furrowed his brows, feeling out of the loop and more than a little foolish. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she grinned, shrugging slightly. “I think I know how you got that invitation.”

Derek froze. He knew Stiles wasn’t supposed to socialize with Dolce’s patrons off the clock.

Derek was sure that most of the employees at Dolce knew each other to some degree, but he didn’t know how close Stiles was with this omega. Derek would hate himself if he got Stiles in trouble. 

Or worse, fired. 

Derek must have let the worry show on his face, because the omega’s smirk lost its edge, and became something much more soft and friendly. 

“Don’t worry, big guy,” she patted him on the shoulder. She leaned into Derek’s personal space, and Derek could feel her breasts brushing up against his shoulder. The omega’s lips grazed against the shell of his ear as she whispered, “Your secret’s safe with us.” 

She pulled back slowly, locking eyes with Derek, and used a finger to gather a small, stray droplet of milk from her chest that was about to fall. 

Taking a step back, giving Derek a bit more space, she slipped her finger in her mouth and winked at him. 

Derek took his White Russian in his hand, and almost forgetting to retract his claws before grasping the glass. He turned away and took a large drink of the beverage, needing a distraction from the intensity of whatever the hell had just happened. 

Luckily Derek didn’t have to wait too much longer for the awkwardness to end, because the omega caught the attention of an alpha sitting a few seats down the bar from Derek. 

“Someone looks thirsty,” she called out to him, her voice an inviting purr.

The alpha pulled out his wallet, taking out a handful of bills. 

“Parched,” he growled, waving the bills in the air. 

The omega smirked at the alpha, her eyes dancing in delight. 

“Enjoy your drink, Derek,” she said absently, patting Derek’s shoulder again as she passed behind him. Derek nodded shakily and turned back to the bar as the omega sauntered off to tend to the other alpha. 

Derek turned back toward the bar, only to be met with Scott, who was standing there with a combination of amusement, but tentative trust. 

While Derek might have been distracted by the gorgeous omega, Scott’s attention had been on Derek the _entire_ time. 

“Look,” Derek set his drink on the counter and leaned in toward Scott, “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” Derek said in a lowered voice. 

Scott smiled at him, but this time it was softer, and a little more genuine than it was when the female omega was there. 

“Look dude, we all have things we keep to ourselves. I won’t say anything.” He wiped down the counter with a towel before slinging it over his shoulder. He gave Derek a once over, and then placed his hands on the counter, leaning in toward Derek. 

“But remember that I know your secret, alpha,” his eyes narrowed dangerously locking with Derek’s, challenging him, “And if you fuck up, no one will _ever_ find your remains.” Scott’s spoke lowly and Derek could hear the threatening growl in his voice.

“Have I made myself clear?”

Derek thought back to the conversation with Stiles on the phone, and how he was whisper arguing with someone in the room, and Stiles’ nervous (seemingly out of the blue) suggestion that Derek come to Dolce for a second time before they meet at his apartment. 

Of course Lydia, Scott and the female omega knew left the invite to Dolce for Derek. They were all in this together. This wasn’t Stiles’ coworkers trying to get the dirt on him because he was breaking the rules; this was Stiles’ friends looking out for him because they cared about him very much. 

This was about letting Derek know that _they knew_ that he and Stiles had something going on that was ‘off the books,’ and that he would be held accountable for his actions.

This was the strangest version of the shovel talk that Derek had ever received, and Derek didn’t doubt that this alpha would make good on his threat if Derek crossed a line.

“Crystal clear,” Derek swallowed thickly, nodding. 

Scott pulled back, standing upright. All traces of the threatening, posturing alpha he’d just seen vanishing. 

“Good,” his smile turned friendly once again. “Enjoy your drink.”

Once Scott moved on to another customer, Derek felt himself relax into the seat. 

This night was turning out to be much weirder than he could have imagined. 

 

*

 

Derek had long since finished his White Russian, and had turned down Scott’s offer for another one, when the light bulb above the curtained doorway suddenly switched off. 

“Fucking _finally_ ,” growled someone at the end of the bar. 

Scott finished the last drink he was making, serving the customer with a friendly smile, and then he headed over toward the curtained doorway. He unfastened the velvet rope that was blocking off the doorway attaching it to a ring jutting out from the wall. 

Derek leaned forward took into the doorway, but could only see that there was a staircase that led downwards into what must have been the basement. Several alphas who had been sitting next to Derek began shuffling in their seats, taking out their wallets and setting money on the bar, settling their tabs. Derek followed suit, and rose from the bar stool, deciding to stand. He watched the door expectantly, waiting to see what happened next. 

After a few moments, a crowd began to exit the stairwell and spill out into the bar area. The patrons who were exiting the stairwell were flushed and more than a little rumpled looking, but they all looked deliriously happy from whatever it was they had just seen. 

Several of the male alphas were sporting either large erections beneath their trousers, or had considerable bulges from where their knots had been tucked haphazardly back into their pants. A large cluster of female alphas were fanning themselves and talking excitedly amongst one another, the scent of their arousal permeating cutting through the air. There was a woman in the middle of a group who was wearing a sash that read ‘Bride-to-Be,’ and Derek figured she must have been here for her bachelorette party. 

The scent of arousal, combined with the already pheromone-clouded air of the bar, made Derek’s already semi-hard cock take even more interest, and he swore under his breath as the scent of sex saturated his head. 

One by one, the seated alphas stood up from the bar, and began to form a queue near the curtained entrance. Derek pulled his ticket from his pocket, thumbing the edge of it nervously, as he followed the other customers to the door’s entrance. 

The female omega who’d helped finish Derek’s drink approached the line at the entrance, and began taking their tickets. As Derek passed through the doorway, she leaned in toward him.

“Have fun,” she smiled wickedly as she took Derek’s ticket.

“Thanks,” he muttered distractedly, scratching his cheek. 

The narrow staircase led the downwards toward the basement, and for a second, Derek was curious to know if this was the only staircase that led to another part of the bar, or if there were _multiple_ other rooms that only members were privy to. 

Eventually he reached the bottom of the staircase, which led the alphas into a hallway which was decorated with thick, voluptuous red velvet curtains. At the end of the short hallway was another set of double doors, which was guarded by another set of Dolce’s security alphas. 

Derek peered into the doorway to see that there what must have been the last row of seats. As he passed one of the alphas, he leaned in to ask, “Is there anywhere in particular I should sit?”

The alpha shook his head, watching the stream of alphas men and women in line rather than looking at Derek. 

“No, sir. It’s your choice. Some prefer to stand in the shadows at the back, others prefer to be a little closer to the action.” 

Derek mentally shrugged, and crossed the threshold into the room, wildly curious as to what he was about to see. 

 

*

The inside of this room was not what Derek was expecting. In contrast of the expansive dining area downstairs, this room was small and intimate, and quite dimly lit. It appeared to be a cabaret theater, however, only large enough to seat about fifty people or so. 

In the front of the room, there was a small, circular stage that was obscured by rich, royal blue, velvet curtains with gold trim along the base, mimicking the curtain at stairwell down in the bar. Radiating outward from the stage, were five rows of seats—five seats on either side of the main aisle, and each seat spaced out slightly from one another – and the rows were tiered, so that the no row blocked the view of another. Every seat provided a prime view of the stage.

The theater walls had the same vivid, royal blue velvety wall paper, and there were elegant Victorian lamps providing the intimate lighting. In the back two corners of the room were large speakers.

The crowd filtered into the theater, deciding where to sit and getting comfortable in the plush seats. 

Derek wasn’t quite sure where to sit. Since he was one of the few who had been let inside first, he was able to get a seat in the front row just off of the aisle. His seat was front and center and mere feet away from the edge of the stage, and while he wasn’t sure what was about to happen, he was excited nonetheless.

There was a buzz in the room, a feeling of excitement and arousal. Every alpha was able to pick up on the arousal of the others, enhancing their own arousal, and it was a never ending loop of erotic stimulation cycling between everyone in the audience. Derek could smell the scent of pheromones and precome, and it made him feel as though his skin was too tight, his wolf inside itching to get out. Derek was nearly painfully hard, and a little uncomfortable with how comfortable the others were with the level of arousal amongst strangers. 

The doors in the back of the room were shut, and the lights in the theater began to dim. The alphas in the audience quickly quieted down and tuned their attention to the stage, the scent of pheromones increasing. Derek scooted further down in his seat, making himself as comfortable as he could, and looked up to the stage. Slow sensual music began to play from the speakers at the back of the room, two large stage lights focused on the center of the curtains just as they began to peel back. 

In the center of the stage was a large, person-sized birdcage. It was looked like it was made out of gold, and it had ornate metalwork all along the bars. 

The door to the birdcage was open, and inside there was a beautiful male omega who was perched on a giant swing. He was holding a giant feathered fan, which he used to block his body from the audience’s view. The music began to swell, and the omega stepped down from the swing, gracefully moving to the beat of the music as he exited the large cage. 

He was wearing a teal underbust corset that cupped his small perky breasts, presenting them enticingly to the crowd. Draping down from the back of the corset was a long, elaborate train of peacock feathers, with trailed behind him as he danced around on the stage. 

The music played, slow and sultry, as the omega moved to the center of the stage. He trailed his gloved hand up his body, finally sticking the fingers into his mouth. He bit down on the fabric of the glove, one by one loosening freeing each finger. 

Derek’s jaw tightened, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he felt the blood rush to his groin. 

Derek didn’t realize that he was going to be watching a performance at all. Let alone a performance like _this_. 

He watched as the omega sensually peeled off the glove from his hand, winking cheekily at the audience. With a dramatic movement of his other hand, he opened the large feathered fan, switching it to the other hand so he could remove the other glove. 

Piece by piece he removed an article of clothing, ducking coyly behind the fan, only flashing bits and pieces of himself in various states of undress, before dramatically dropping the fan all together and letting everyone get a look at his body. 

His performance wasn’t very long, only lasting the length of a song, and it ended with him completely nude (except for the thin gold belt, which supported the weight of the trail of peacock plumage), covering himself cheekily with the fan, and blowing kisses to the crowd of alphas who were applauding uproariously. His erection was sticking out obscenely, the tip of his head rosy and wet with precome and glistening against the stage lights. 

As his song ended, he stepped back inside of the giant golden bird cage, closing the door behind him as the curtains closed around the stage, signaling the end of this number. 

Derek took a quick look at the alphas seated behind him, and was surprised to see that he wasn’t the only one who was having a physical reaction to the performances. From the darkness of the room, there were dozens of pairs of red, glowing eyes all trained on the stage, eager for more. Derek could see faces that were in various states of shift, some even in full beta. 

The lights remained dim, but there was still enough music playing to keep the room from being drenched in silence between performances. It wasn’t long before the curtains pulled back, and there was another omega on stage, elaborately costumed with a prop to match, ready to perform for the crowd. 

The room was thick with the heavy scent of arousal of the alphas in the crowd and the magnitude of it was triggering Derek’s own primal instincts. Each alpha was responding to the arousal in the room, their bodies reacting by emitting more pheromones, thus, creating a never ending loop of arousal that everyone was reacting to. 

Derek felt almost drunk with the weight of it, and he rubbed himself through his slacks, wondering how he was ever going to make it through the rest of the evening in the Velvet Room without getting a hand on his cock. 

Many of the other alphas, however, weren’t having the same crisis as Derek. There were several in the crowd who had given in to the lust, fondling themselves over their clothes, or sticking their hands underneath the fabric to edge themselves as they watched the tantalizing omegas perform for the room. Some of the male alphas had undone their pants completely, and were openly stroking their erections and humping into their fists, eyes glued to the stage.

Derek wasn’t sure if he was _that_ bold, but the pressure was becoming almost too much for him to bear. He undid the button on his trousers and unzipped it just enough so that he could pull his cock out of his pants, reducing the worst of the discomfort. 

The sexually charged atmosphere wasn’t completely one-sided either. Because of the heavy amount of pheromones the alphas were pumping out, the omegas’ bodies were responding in turn. As the show went on, more and more of the omegas who took the stage did so with slick subtly dripping out of their holes and smearing between their thighs and faint sheen on their milk-sticky breasts. 

Derek sat and watched after omega after omega performed for the crowd, each performance a little racier and revealing than the next. Derek was painfully hard, his cock lying hot and hard on his abdomen, dribbling pre onto his shirt. Having already seen five performances (the last being a duo who performed a beautiful pole dancing routine), he wondered how the next performance could possibly top the last. 

That is, until the curtains pulled back one last time for final performance of the evening to reveal _Stiles_

He was standing on the stage, next to a large, sized champagne glass which came up to about mid-chest, and was full of milk, and he had one foot resting atop a small stepstool. 

Derek’s jaw dropped open as he took in Stiles’ delectable body. The last time Derek had seen Stiles, the lighting in the booth wasn’t nearly as bright as the two stage lights which were focused on Stiles. The lighting in the booth didn’t to him justice at all. 

Stiles was _breathtaking_. 

He was wearing a long, cream colored cape that was covered in sparkling rhinestones. The cape draped down his back and the train cascaded elegantly behind him. Beneath that, he wore a jeweled thong and that was similarly covered in rhinestones, and had delicate tassels along the front that softly brushed along his upper thighs. Unlike the other performers, he wasn’t wearing a corset or a bra, and there were tiny little rhinestones which decorated his shoulders, chest and small, perky breasts. 

Derek’s eyes raked over every inch of Stiles’ creamy skin and the moles delicately dotting his flesh here and there. 

He wanted to spread Stiles out and spend _hours_ connecting those freckles with his tongue. Derek’s cock began to leak even more and he actually growled at the thought of Stiles in Derek’s home, in Derek’s _bed_

One the stage, Stiles leaned suggestively against the side of the tall champagne glass, one hand resting on his hip, toying with the fringe on his panties, and the other holding a smaller, regular-sized champagne glass. He winked at the crowd, sending the horny alphas into a frenzy, growling, panting and whimpering, just _waiting_ for Stiles to begin his routine. 

Taking casual sips of from the champagne glass, Stiles gracefully sauntered forward, approaching the front of the stage, smirking seductively at the crowd. His eyes moved from one side of the room to the other, scanning the seated crowd as well as he could in the darkened room. 

Derek began breathing heavily, fighting the urge to shift then and there. Every inch of his body felt like it was on _fire_ , burning with the need for the omega to see him. Derek was positively _aching_ for Stiles to notice him in the crowd of alphas, to see that Derek had come for him, to see that Derek would do anything he asked of him. 

Unconsciously, Derek scooted forward in his seat, sitting on the very edge and getting as close to the stage as he possible could without actually getting out of the chair. At the edge of the seat, with his legs spread wide, his cock bounced obscenely, precome dribbling onto the floor. 

If this were any other moment in Derek’s life, he’d be humiliated at having his erect cock out in public, allowing himself to be on _display_ like this. Now that Stiles was on stage, everything else melted away, and all Derek could focus on was him. 

Derek could tell the _exact_ moment that Stiles noticed him in the crowd. His eyes stopped abruptly and his teasing smirk softened just enough, slipping into something more genuine. His eyes remained locked on Derek and he continued onward toward the front of the stage, stopping at the very edge. 

_Directly_ in front of Derek. 

Derek sat forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, his mouth open, practically _panting_ as he watched Stiles with an unwavering, predatory gaze. His cock was leaking steadily, flushed and insistent, and Derek wanted nothing more than to climb up onto that stage and mount Stiles in front of the entire goddamn room. 

From where he was standing at the very edge of the stage, Stiles crouched down – his splayed legs practically _showing off_ his own erection, the fabric of the jeweled panties bulging obscenely— and held out his arm to Derek, offering the last of the milk that was in the champagne glass. 

Derek could feel the red bleed into his eyes, although he doubted you could even see the ring of color given how blown his pupils must have been. He let out a low, aroused growl, leaning forward the last several inches towards Stiles and his outstretched hand, his lips touching the rim of the glass. 

Stiles’ pupils were just as large as Derek’s, the smell of arousal rolling off of him in such powerful waves, Derek was half afraid it was going to trigger his rut. 

Stiles’ eyes were locked with Derek’s. He licked his lips slowly as he tilted the glass, pouring the last of the mild into Derek’s eager mouth. Derek broke the eye contact for just a moment, his eyelids fluttering shut, as he swallowed the milk that Stiles was offering him. Derek would know that taste _anywhere_. 

He was drinking _Stiles’_ milk.

Derek’s cock twitched, drooling obscenely onto the floor between his legs. Instinctively, his hips humped into the air, desperate to bury himself inside of the omega. 

He pulled away from the glass, his eyes meeting Stiles’ once again, and he spread his legs wider, subtly presenting his erection to Stiles. Stiles’ eyes drifted down briefly, before snapping back up to Derek’s. An innocent flush swept across his cheeks, but the grin he gave Derek was filthy as fuck. 

Stiles walked back toward the champagne glass, his hips swaying teasingly, and he unfastened the cape, letting it fall to the ground. 

Several of the alphas began whistling and howling as Stiles’ ass was bared to them. 

Stiles peaked back over his shoulder, winking cheekily, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet so the globes of his ass jiggled for the audience, which only riled the crowd even further. 

Stiles stepped onto the small footstool, and climbed into the large champagne glass, causing some of it to slosh out of the class and onto the stage. 

From inside the glass, he danced a little more to the movement, undulating sensually and biting his lip teasingly. Using the champagne glass he had been drinking from, he filled it with milk, and then poured it dramatically onto his chest, coating his breasts and soft tummy with the creamy liquid. 

Derek’s hand drifted down to his erection, gripping the base and squeezing, so close to coming already and desperately trying to hold off. Stiles’ routine had only just begun and he was _this_ close to popping a knot already. 

The scent of the milk hit the air in a powerful wave, and Derek’s nose identified the scent of Stiles’ milk, as well as dozens of others. Derek’s fangs dropped and he practically bit through his lip as he realized that Stiles was drenching himself in the milk of what was likely all the omegas who worked at Dolce. 

Derek’s mind flashed with the image of dozens of omegas hooked up to pumps, riding their fingers and playing with their cocks and cunts to stimulate their production. Derek let out a pained whimper, his hips absently thrusting forward into this hand. 

Stiles writhed around in the milk, covering his body in the sweet cream. The heavy scent of alpha pheromones mixing with the scent of the milk was a lethal combination. Derek was practically feral with desire, and he knew he wasn’t the only one in the room who was fighting to maintain control of themselves. 

Stiles spun around in the glass until his back was facing the entranced audience. 

He turned his head to face as much of the crowd as he could and gave a sly smile. He grasped the rim of the glass, making sure he had a solid grip, and maneuvered himself so that his knees were spread wide and propped on either side of the champagne glass. He lowered his torso and thrust his hips back and fucking _presented_ for the room of horny alphas. 

A collective moan rippled through the crowd, and several alphas were coming just from the sight of Stiles spread out on stage. The woman seated behind Derek set her feet on the back of Derek’s chair, spreading her legs wide and rubbing her erect clit, panties dangling around her ankles. 

Later, Derek would be impressed by the incredible restraint shown by everyone in the room for not rushing the stage and trying to knot themselves up tight inside of the little omega. 

Derek was so hard he fucking _hurt_ and he gave in to his desire and finally allowed himself to stroke his flushed, aching cock. Derek was sure he would be surprised at his behavior later, but for right now, propriety be damned. He wrapped a hand around his cock, spread his thighs a little wider, and began working his cock slowly while he watched Stiles up on the stage. 

Stiles must have known what he was doing to the crowd. He _had_ to. 

Stiles balanced on one hand while he scooped more milk into the champagne glass and reached back pouring it all over the fleshy globes of his ass. Some of the milk dripped inside his crack, coating his hole which was open and practically winking at the crowd, mouthing hungrily at the fabric of the thong. Stiles let go of the glass and reached back to pull one of his ass cheeks to the side, showing off the tight furl of his hole, the pink stretching open a bit and puckering and leaking slick. 

The woman behind Derek practically kicked Derek in the shoulder as her climax rippled through her body, her moans and cries triggering several of the others to find pleasure in their own releases. 

Derek’s eyes were glued to Stiles’ hand, as he reached back even further, his fingers circling the furl of his hole, sticking the tip of his finger in just a bit, before pulling it out again. Shuffling awkwardly, Stiles pulled the thong down, so it rested just beneath Stiles’ ass cheeks. 

Stiles dipped his hand into the champagne glass, coating his fingers in the milky mixture, then brought them back to his hole prodding his entrance purposefully. It wasn’t long before Stiles had the length of one finger inside of himself, working himself open on the digit, his hips stuttering now and then from the pleasure of his ministrations. 

He pulled his wrist back just enough so that he could fit a second finger inside of his hole. 

Derek stoked himself further, watching Stiles ride his fingers in front of an _entire room_ or horny alphas. Derek’s eyes roamed over the exposed skin, committing every one of Stiles’ actions to memory. 

Stiles kept going, finger fucking himself on milky fingers, until eventually he had worked himself up to four. He scissored his fingers, stretching and working his hole, occasionally dipping his hand to get more of the milk from the glass below, and stuffing his hand back inside of himself. 

When Stiles was satisfied with how stretched he was, he removed his knees from the edge of the champagne glass. He stood on his knees, bending forward and used both hands to spread his cheeks and show off his sloppy gaping hole to the room, looking over his shoulder and winking. 

He climbed out of the champagne glass, standing on shaky legs, and removed the thong entirely. He tossed it into the crowd, and Derek could hear two alphas growling and snarling at one another as they fought over who would end up with the prize. 

The music began to fade out, but Stiles was still standing on stage, and looked nowhere near done with his set. Before the other song ended completely, another one began. Derek was a little confused; although if Stiles wanted to perform for an additional song, he was definitely not going to complain. 

The rest of the omegas they had seen this evening had only been on stage for the length of one song. Derek wasn’t sure what else Stiles could do for the rest of the song since he had already stripped, rolled around in a giant champagne glass of omega milk, and _then_ fingered himself open. 

_What else could possibly be left?_

Stiles reached back inside the champagne glass to grab something that had been hidden inside of the milk. He held the item behind his back as he sauntered up the stage, gloriously nude and reeking of slick and milk. His erection was flushed and rested against the base of his stomach, leaking steadily against the skin of his lower belly. 

Derek practically whimpered when he noticed the little freckles dotting the underside of Stiles’ cock. Derek hadn’t noticed that the last time they were together, and for some reason that detail just seemed so adorable. 

Stiles stood at the edge of the stage and gave another cheeky smile to the crowd as he held the object out for everyone to see. 

Derek’s eyes widened in disbelief and the hand on his cock stopped moving momentarily. All ability to function evaporated from Derek’s mind as he realized what was in Stiles’ hand.

It was a large, thick knotting dildo.

What little self-control the audience had left completely melted away, and there were several howls and growls, and everyone was touching themselves, working closer and closer to orgasm, no longer just satisfied with edging. 

Stiles brought the small stepstool to the front of the stage and set front and center making sure everyone in the room had a prime view. 

_No_ , Derek thought, _He isn’t going to…_

Stiles stuck the suctioned base of the dildo to the stool’s surface. The fake cock wobbled slightly from the motion, and Derek immediately began comparing it to his own cock. It was longer and thicker of course; it was designed to be. But Derek knew that his knot had more girth. 

Very few production companies were able to emulate the way Were’s knot naturally expanded during sex. There were a few lower quality models that had inflatable knots that one could control with a pump. But even that couldn’t match the force of the pressure of a natural knot. 

Derek’s wolf preened at the knowledge that his own knot was far more superior than any prosthetic model, and that if he ever had the opportunity to knot the omega, he would see just how superior Derek was. How much more pleasure _he_ could bring to Stiles’ body instead of some fake toy. 

Stiles lowered himself onto his knees, his tits bouncing with the motion, and positioned himself above the stool, hovering just over the dildo’s head. As he spread his thighs to position himself over the toy, a large blob of slick drooled out of his hole, dripping down obscenely onto the cockhead.

At this, Stiles actually blushed, and Derek could tell that it was a genuine reaction. Unlike the other purposeful gestures designed to get a rise out of the crowd, this wasn’t supposed to be a part of his routine. 

Going with the flow, Stiles swiped a finger through the puddle of his slick and stuck it into his mouth, winking cheekily as and other round of aroused roars made its way through the crowd. 

Derek slowed his strokes, watching Stiles’ every move like a hunter watching its prey. The base of his knot pulsed insistently, and Derek used the copious precome to ease the glide of his hand on his cock. 

Stiles held the dildo in one hand while the other reached back to hold spread his hole as much as he could. He winced for a second as the toy breeched his entrance, then he sunk down a little bit before pulling back off. A thick string of slick stretched from the cock’s head to Stiles’ ass. Derek could felt too hot for his own body and he nearly whimpered, _desperate_ to be able to lick Stiles’ out until he was delirious with pleasure. 

Stiles sat down onto the toy once more, this time sinking down steadily and taking the entirety of the cock into his ass. 

Derek could hear several of the alphas in the crowd –mostly the Weres— let out a guttural groan as they came into their own hands. 

Stiles’ face and chest were flushed. His eyes were screwed shut and his mouth hung open, panting harshly, waiting for his body to adjust to the thickness of the dildo. His erection flagged a little, the pain temporarily overriding the arousal. Derek could hear the swift beat of Stiles’ heart as it his body adjusted to the sensations. 

Despite his obvious discomfort, and the fact that Derek was pretty sure the cock was slightly on the verge of being too big to fit inside of Stiles, the scent of Stiles arousal radiated just as strongly as before. And once the expression of discomfort began to subside, Stiles’ face began to relax as the sensation of  
ecstasy took its place.

It wasn’t much longer before his cock was flushed and erect, jutting out away from his body. His perky tits were flushed as well, his nipples peaked in arousal. He bounced up and down tentatively, trying to work himself in a decent rhythm, his tits bouncing enticingly. 

Derek eyed Stiles, drinking in every inch of his body as he stroked himself, a deep growl rumbling in his chest. 

Stiles swiveled his hips, still trying to keep his rhythm even, but searching for something. 

While he was moving on the cock, one hand anchoring himself on the back of the stool and the other gripping his thigh, nails digging into this skin, his foot slipped in one of the small pools of milk that had collected on the floor. His foot suddenly skidded out a few inches, and he lost his balance, sliding further down onto the knot that bulged out of the base. Stiles’ eyes shot open and he let out a broken, wet moan. 

Derek _knew_ that the new angle was rubbing right up against Stiles’ prostate. Keeping that angle, Stiles widened his legs a little more, and began fucked himself insistently on the thick cock, teasing his spot over and over. 

And just when Derek thought that the performance couldn’t get any better, Stiles breasts started leaking. 

The sweet, innocent pearls of milk began to thicken until there were streams of milk emerging from Stiles’ breasts, pouring down his chest. The scent of Stiles’ cream filled Derek’s nose and took hold of his mind, driving him mad with arousal. 

Stiles began riding the cock in earnest, mouth open and panting, occasionally licking his plushy bottom lip. His cock bounced up and down obscenely as his hips moved, a thick stream of precome dangling down from his flushed head, swinging in time with the motion, his sweet balls softly swaying as he rode. 

He brought one hand to a breast to gather up some of his milk, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking the cream off of his skin. He moaned obscenely, fucking himself harder on the dildo. 

Stiles’ bouncing breasts were leaking in a constant stream now, the arousal triggering his flow and keeping his stream thick and plentiful. He whimpered and whined as he rode the fake cock, panting heavily . Stiles removed his other hand from the stool and brought it up to his chest and massaged his milky tits, causing more milk to shoot out, some of it even making it as far as the floor of the stage. 

Stiles sucked three fingers into his mouth and opened his eyes, gazing dazedly into the crowd. He scanned the room, taking in the horny alphas. 

He gave a shy smile into the crowd. The chasteness of his expression contrasted lewdly with his body’s actions, playing as though he didn’t know how filthy he was being, how wantonly he was spread out. Derek knew without a doubt that Stiles knew damn well the exact effect he was having on the crowd. The alphas were staring at him lecherously, tongues wagging, pumping pheromones into the air so much so that it _stank_ like some sort of breeding orgy. 

Stiles knew he had every alpha in the room wrapped around his finger, and he enjoyed working them up into an aroused frenzy. 

When his eyes landed on Derek, however, Derek could tell the exact moment that Stiles dropped the shy, ingénue façade. Derek could see Stiles lower the veil just enough, and no matter how many other alphas were in the room, something in Stiles’ expression told him that this performance was _entirely_ for Derek. 

Normally, Derek would be nearly feral with jealously if the omega of his desires was behaving half as suggestively as this in front of other alphas; the competition would drive Derek _mad_ trying to prove himself to be above the rest of the alphas. But for some reason, the fact that even though there were 40 other alphas in the room, openly jacking off and panting after Stiles, cocks in hand, rutting into their fists just dripping with pheromones, and Stiles chose to only recognized Derek, made him feel like the only alpha who mattered. 

Fuck the other alphas. Let them thirst over the omega they couldn’t have. There was no competition. Derek had clearly won. 

Stiles had chosen _Derek_. 

Derek wrapped a hand around his cock, gripping himself firmly. His foreskin was pulled back and his head was nearly purple. His slit was leaking so heavily that Derek knew he was his pants were going to be destroyed after this. His knot was swelling at the base of his cock, so ready to pop that Derek could actually feel it pulsing, threatening to pop right there in his fist. 

Derek’s fangs were out and glistening with saliva and he began fucking his cock into his fist, his knot swelling at the base of his cock. He was showing off for Stiles, he realized; performing for him, in his own way, and showing off what he could offer the omega if he decided to bless Derek with the gift of a night in his bed. 

Stiles eyes Derek’s cock hungrily, licking his lips, and watching Derek’s hand jacking his thick, meaty cock. Stiles let out an involuntary moan, his hips stuttering in their rhythm momentarily, and his cock blurted out another blob of precome, his breasts leaking more and more heavily. 

By this point, Derek could tell that Stiles was too close to his own orgasm to care about the performance (not that anyone else in the room was complaining). Derek could _smell_ how close the little omega was to losing it and his only interest was pushing himself over the edge. 

Stiles locked eyes with Derek, licking his pouty lips, and began riding the thick, knotting dildo in earnest. One of Stiles’ hands squeezed one of his breasts, his long spindly fingers pinching at his nipple, and he use the other hand to brace himself on the back of the stool again, giving himself leverage to ride even harder, the fake knot pressing against his hole and the meat of the cock’s base rubbing relentlessly against his prostate. 

Derek let growled, loud enough for Stiles to hear, sneering slightly. He clenched his jaws tightly, the action causing his fangs to grind together. Derek wished with everything he had that he had Stiles’ neck between his teeth, that he could give him the claiming bite, marking him as his to all other alphas. 

Stiles’ rhythm became more and more erratic, and his eyes scrunched shut and he let out a loud broken moan. Be bounced harder, his hips undulating frantically as he came, _completely untouched_ , spurts of come shooting outwards and onto the floor of the stage. 

There were several other whines and howls as several of the other alphas came as well, knotting their fists and roaring into the room. 

Derek whined high in his throat as his orgasm took over, ripping through him violently. He shot out thick spurts onto the theater’s floor, his hand working his cock as he rode out the intensity of his climax.

Stiles began to move slower and slower, the muscles beneath his smooth stomach fluttering erratically with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Derek had no doubt that he was sore and sensitive from the force of his orgasm and the prolonged stimulation of the dildo pressing into his prostate. Stiles flagging erection bounced gently as he rode and his tits leaked heavily, the pearly liquid drenching his chest. 

Even though there was still music playing, the room was filled with the sounds of Stiles’ breathy pants and the occasional pained whimper as the over-sensitivity kicked in. He brought a shaky hand to his chest, rubbing his milk into his skin, sucking his fingers into his pouty mouth. 

Stiles opened his eyes and bit his lip, a blush faintly dusting his cheeks. He grinned shyly at the crowd and gingerly pushed himself up off of the stool, dismounting from the dildo to stand shakily on his feet. 

With the absence of the dildo, the slick began to gush out of Stiles’ gaping hole, dripping down his thighs and glistening obscenely against the stage lights. 

Derek wanted nothing more than to walk up onto that stage and lick up every last bit of Stiles’ slick and to clean him out as thoroughly as he could, greedily drinking and tasting the omega’s slick from its source. 

The sound of applause in the room was thunderous, several alphas howling out their appreciation. 

Stiles gave a little sheepish wave as the lights began to dim on the stage, bowing faintly just as the velvet curtains slid shut around the stage, separating audience from performer. 

The bland theater music played resumed, but the lights stayed dim, allowing the alphas to have a chance to set themselves to rights. 

Derek stood up from his seat and tucked his cock back into his trousers. He couldn’t help but dribble some of his own come down the front of his zipper, but at this point, Derek was so out of it, he didn’t care how many people saw him with his own jizz all over himself. 

He eyed the pool of his come on the floor, cringing in embarrassment at how out of control he’d been. Not that he had any reason to be ashamed, given the fact that all of the other alphas had been pleasuring themselves as well. 

That seemed to be the point of this entire thing, rather than just watching. Derek gathered that while the performances leading up to the finale were nice, they were just the appetizer, and the final number was the dessert that sated everyone’s appetite. 

Eventually the lights turned up, and the doors in the back of the room opened up. 

It wasn’t until the fresh air from the hallway began to pour into the theater that Derek noticed the magnitude of how pheromone ridden the theater had smelled. It absolutely utterly reeked of milk, slick and come. There was no polite way to put it, the room smelled disgustingly like sex. Yet, Derek found himself inhaling it as much as he could, absorbing the memory to use for later when he had his cock in his hand in the darkness of his bedroom. 

Derek walked up the aisle toward the exit, a hand gently cupping his sensitive knot from over his pants, trying desperately not to set off another orgasm. He hadn’t popped his knot tonight, but it was damn close, and Derek knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight until he had gone a few rounds with one of his toys at home, knotting it up good and tight until he’d drained his balls. 

Several other alphas stayed seated in the crowd, very obviously tired and trying to work up the energy to even get out of their seats. He noticed that many them also had their tongues lolling out of their mouths and greedily inhaled the sex scented air. 

*

Derek re-entered the bar area, walking on shaky legs to the bar. 

Several of the alphas who had exited along with Derek seemed to be even more aroused despite the fact that they had just come, they chatted eagerly as they decided to get food in the main dining room, have a drink at the bar, or get tickets to another performance. 

Derek plopped down on the bar stool, too damn tired to try and maintain any sort of grace, and signaled to get Scott’s attention. 

Scott gave him a head nod, setting down the glass he was wiping with the towel, and walking over to him. 

“Is there somewhere I can leave a tip?” Derek’s voice was rough and gritty. 

Scott raised an eyebrow and glanced back at the curtained door and then back to Derek. “Tickets to the VIP performances are already pretty pricey,” Scott said. “He doesn’t need a tip.”

“But if I wanted to leave one?” Derek insisted. Derek had no doubt that Stiles had made bank tonight; the theater was _packed_. But Derek believed in supporting someone’s work if he appreciated it. 

And Derek had _more_ than just appreciated it. 

Scott looked as though he was trying his absolute hardest to not roll his eyes. “I’ll make sure he gets it.” He reached beneath the counter and pulled out an empty envelope, and slid it across the counter toward Derek. “You can put it in this.” 

“Do you have a pen?”

Scott pulled the pen from behind his ear and set it next to the envelope. A woman at the end of the bar set his empty glass on the counter and signaled to get Scott’s attention. “I’ll be back,” Scott muttered. 

As Scott tended to her, Derek plucked several bills from his wallet and slipped them inside the envelope. He grabbed a nearby cocktail napkin and jotted down a quick note: _You were incredible. I can’t wait to see you next week. _

He tucked the napkin inside of the envelope and licked the flap so he could seal it shut. When Scott returned, Derek handed him the envelope with a nod of thanks. 

Derek was still far too unsteady to stand up and try to walk out to the lobby, and Derek knew he would embarrass himself even further by how flustered he was. Sitting at the bar for another drink was exactly what he needed at the moment. He ordered a Bowmore with a single ice cube, and politely declined one of the omegas who approached him at the bar, focusing on getting his breathing back to a normal rhythm and letting his body calm down. 

By the time Derek finished his scotch, he felt calm enough to leave Dolce. He sent a text to Greenberg, who was only a few blocks away, telling him that he was ready to be picked up. Derek signaled for Scott again so that he could pay his tab, and then he finally made his way through the crowded dining area toward the front lobby. 

*

Things in the lobby were much quieter than they were when Derek arrived. 

There was a couple waiting to be seated, and Malia and Lydia were chatting amongst themselves behind the counter. 

Lydia spotted Derek first, and she stood up straighter, the veil of professionalism slipping back into place. Derek must have still looked dazed, because Lydia gave him a once over, and bit her lip trying to keep from laughing. 

“Did you enjoy yourself Mr. Hale?”

Derek could feel the blush creeping into his cheeks as he frowned and tried to surreptitiously move his hands in front of the crotch of his pants to hide the come stains that were all over the front of his trousers. 

There was _no way_ he’d be able to drop these off at the dry cleaners, he’d die of embarrassment. He’d have to get rid of them entirely. 

Malia smirked and began typing something into the computer. “Our system shows you’ve already paid your bar tab.”

Derek nodded. 

Malia unlocked the drawer on the counter and retrieved Derek’s ID. “Is there anything else we can do for you Mr. Hale?”

Derek collected his ID and slipped it into his wallet, declining her offer. He only made it three steps from the counter before he whirled back around. 

“Actually,” his voice sounded strange, even to his own ears. Derek cleared his throat and tried again, making conscious effort to seem causal. “Actually, I’d like to order another bottle of milk.”

Malia pulled Derek’s account up on her screen. “Same as last time?”

Derek nodded stiffly. 

(From off to the side he heard one of the twins snicker at him.)

Malia confirmed Derek’s address and told him the bottle would arrive in three business days. 

*

Greenberg was already standing by the car when Derek exited Dolce, and he held the door open for him.

“Thank you,” Derek said, ducking into the back of the town car. 

He body was still buzzing from the aftershocks of his orgasm, and his entire body felt warm and relaxed—most likely an effect from the alcohol—and as Greenberg steered the car uptown, Derek closed his eyes and rested his head against the headrest, replaying Stiles’ performance in his head over and over. 

Derek felt his phone vibrate in his pants pocket, alerting him to a text message. He slid the phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen to read the message. 

**1 New Message:**

**_I can’t wait either <3<3 ;) _ **

 

*  
*  
*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *  
> *
> 
> Are you guys still there? Have I grossed you out completely? Haha. Oh boy...
> 
> As always, your kudos and comments make me smile! And a **thousand** thank yous to everyone who takes the time to read my stuff and put up with my filthy mind. :D
> 
> *  
> * **Possible Warnings**  
>  1\. **Derek's attention being held by another omega** : There is a moment where Derek is very distracted by another omega who isn’t Stiles. I *promise* Derek’s heart only belongs to Stiles, but it’s just that he sort of couldn’t help his instinctual reaction to the omega while at Dolce. It lasts only a moment for a few lines of dialogue, and then the story moves on. I absolutely promise end-game Sterek, so there’s nothing to worry about. I just thought I’d mention it because I know non-Sterek moments in Sterek fics can make some people upset/uncomfortable. (believe me, I’m the same way when I’m reading a fic, so I **totally** get it.) 
> 
> 2\. **Exhibitionism, Voyeurism** : Derek is in the audience for a rather graphic striptease (thus, the exhibition and voyeurism). It is consensual exhibition (no one is being spied on without their knowledge) and none of the audience is being made to watch against their will (no non-con voyeurism). The only little niggle is that Derek didn’t know what he was getting into before he gets into it, which could technically be dub-con voyeurism/forced exhibition (since he didn’t know and provide consent), but once he realizes what’s going on, he is very into it and very much starts to *ahem* _enjoy_ himself.
> 
>  
> 
> ***
> 
> [When Derek was leaving the theater, it totally made me think of that episode of _It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia_ when Frank takes Charlie to a sauna and one of them was convinced that dudes only went there to jerk off and was super grossed out. While they're in the sauna an employee pops his head in and says (paraphrasing), "Sorry, I didn't know anyone was still in here. I'm the guy that cleans up the loads." Dolce _has_ to have a load guy. Or an entire Load Department.]
> 
> ***
> 
> **Visual Inspiration**  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>    
> Inspiration for the bar omegas  
> 
> 
> The birdcage...  
> 
> 
> Stiles’ performance is very (pretty much exactly) based on this famous Dita Von Teese performance  
>   
> 
> 
> I spent an embarrassing amount of time imagining Stiles wearing this...  
> 
> 
> Burlesque dancers in general make me swoon!  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to be honest, I’ve had a really fucking terrible week so far. 
> 
> In addition to normal day-to-day things and computer issues (that, now, seem laughably insignificant), the day after the U.S. Election took a lot out of me. It was very, very emotionally draining, and a fucking nightmare to get through it in one piece, to put it absolutely mildly. It took everything I had to scrape up the emotional motivation to post this. But I promised my friends, and I’ve kept so many of you waiting, and I needed _something_ to turn this day into something other than a burning dumpster fire. 
> 
> I’d intended to post all the last chapters at once, but it’s nearing 4 a.m. and I have to be up in a few hours for work, and I’ve been running on an emotional empty since yesterday evening, so I’m afraid this is the best I can do for right now. But, I will have this up in its entirety by the weekend if it kills me!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been so patient with me and put up with my horrible posting schedule. My heart goes out to all who need a little extra love right now, and my tumblr inbox is open to all who need to talk, share, mourn and vent. I love each and every one of you. Please take care of yourselves and stay safe out there.  
> -ML
> 
> No beta, as usual. Please excuse my errors; I’ll get to them when I have a little more energy.

*  
*  
*

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Derek thought he was going to crawl out of his skin. 

He took a half day (much to Erica’s shock and Laura’s confusion), and got back to the penthouse early enough so he could get things set up for the evening. 

Stiles had all but confirmed that this wasn’t a professional engagement. If fact, it seemed to be quite the opposite; Derek was pretty sure Stiles would actually be _fired_ for meeting Derek outside of the club’s walls. As if their meeting wasn’t already hot enough, the fact that it was so clandestine made it even erotic.

But that train of thought led Derek to another important issue, which was the issue of payment. 

Stiles had initially given Derek his number under the guise of a one-on-one business transaction. Dolce’s whole environment seemed to be structured around keeping the omegas just out of reach. Letting them get close to their customers, teasing and enticing them, getting them to open their wallets and hand over everything in them, before they omegas pulled back and sending them on their way wanting even more. 

When they had spoken on the phone, Stiles had let Derek know that not only was this an off-the-books encounter, but Derek wasn’t sure if Stiles expected to be paid for this. If Stiles expected to be paid, Derek would be absolutely on board for that. But if Stiles didn’t expect to get paid, and viewed this more of a date, then Derek didn’t want to bring it up and risk insulting him. Derek had no problem paying for the services Stiles offered, but he didn’t want Stiles to think that was all Derek wanted him for. 

Because if he was honest with himself, Derek wanted much more from Stiles than just one night. As strange as it sounded, even though Derek had only known Stiles for a very short amount of time, he was pretty sure he was on his way to completely head over heels for the sinful little omega. He knew if he kept thinking about what this meeting meant, he'd drive himself insane, so he did his best to not overthink it anymore, and keep their plans for the night simple. 

Derek had ordered something to eat for the two of them, opting to have it delivered, and focused on making sure the penthouse was presentable. The food arrived about ten minutes before Stiles was supposed to get there, cutting it pretty close, and Derek frantically tried to set the table. 

Derek had just finished putting out the place settings when the house phone rang. He hurried to the front of the penthouse, nearly tripping on the dining room chair in his haste to pick up the receiver. 

“Mr. Hale?” It was Devin, one of the younger attendants who worked in the building's lobby. Derek saw him often in passing as he was coming and going. He was a nice enough kid, and always had a friendly wave and a 'Hey, Mr. H!" when he saw Derek. Tonight, his voice sounded unusually formal, and seemingly trying to hide the surprise at the fact that Derek was having a _social visitor_. “ You have a guest here to see you?” 

Outside of his family, the only person who ever dropped by the penthouse was Boyd.

Even though Derek had been expecting Stiles literally all day, he still shivered in anticipation knowing he was currently downstairs in his building.

“Yeah—uh, yes. You can send him up,” Derek cringed at his awkwardness as he hung up the receiver. 

He darted into the kitchen, tidying up the last bit of mess as he could before the elevator arrived. Derek could hear the elevator reaching the top several floors and he gave himself one last look in the mirror, smoothing down his shirt and running his fingers though his beard. 

The elevator chimed and the metal doors slid open, revealing the omega who had haunted Derek’s mind the entire week. 

Stiles stood in the middle of the elevator car, biting his lip nervously, peaking into the large expanse of Derek’s apartment. 

When his eyes landed on Derek standing there waiting for him, Stiles broke out into a bright grin, his eyes lighting up, his heart beating just a little faster, and the soft, sweet cinnamon smell of Stiles’ arousal increased tenfold. 

Derek thought his heart was going to explode, because it was the first time he had seen Stiles smile specifically at _him_. 

Back at the bar, with Stiles on that stage, Derek remembered how it felt being so close to Stiles, knowing that he had been invited by Stiles personally. But this was different. Stiles was here, in _Derek’s_ apartment, just for him. 

Derek felt like the luckiest person on the planet. 

“Hello,” Stiles grinned warmly, catching his lower lip between his teeth. 

Stiles’ hair was styled nicely, albeit a little more artfully disheveled to Dolce’s every-hair-in-place look. He was wearing an olive green dress shirt tucked into neatly pressed slacks. While Stiles’ clothes certainly looked nice on him, he looked as though he was uncomfortable wearing them, as if he didn’t get dressed up often, or someone had let him borrow the outfit. 

He was carrying a backpack, which was slung over one of his shoulders. Derek assumed he had brought a change of clothes. They hadn’t talked about Stiles spending the night, but if things ran late enough, Derek would definitely offer. 

To be honest, at that moment, Derek would have offered Stiles anything he asked. 

“Hello,” Derek was smiling so hard, he was pretty sure Stiles could see his dimples from beneath his beard. He stepped to the side, making more room for him to enter. “Please, come inside.”

Stiles’ curiosity resumed, and Derek watched, amused, as Stiles tried to glance around the apartment as discreetly as he could, obviously eager to have a more thorough look around. 

“Is it just us tonight?” Stiles asked, cocking his head to the side. Stiles’ voice rolled through Derek, going straight to his groin. Derek had a brief flash of the late, lonely nights while off on a business trip, touching himself in his hotel bed and pretending it was someone else. Derek half wondered if Derek would ever consider calling him during one of such nights, or if he’d even want to come with Derek. 

“Yeah,” Derek nodded, dragging himself out of his head. “It’s just us, is that okay?”

“Yes,” Stiles grinned, biting his lip. “I did not know if you might have changed your mind and invited a friend, or something.”

Derek shook his head. 

Even if he had been entertaining the idea of inviting someone else to his apartment-- which he totally wasn’t—after seeing Stiles’ solo performance in the Velvet Lounge, there was no way Derek would even consider sharing Stiles with anyone.

Derek wanted Stiles all to himself tonight.

“No, it’ll just be us tonight.”

“Cool,” Stiles nodded, looking around the room nonchalantly. Even though Stiles was trying to keep it casual, Derek could smell Stiles’ arousal multiply, pheromones rolling off of him in waves. 

“Is there, um, somewhere I can set this down?” Stiles grasped the strap of his backpack, jiggling it slightly. 

“Yeah, sure.” Derek held out his hand to take the bag, “If you want to change, there’s a spare room just here off the hallway. It has its own bathroom as well.”

Stiles nodded, checking out his surroundings while Derek showed him the smallish room. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” Derek offered. 

“Water would be nice,” Stiles smiled. 

“I have wine and champagne too, if you’d like,” Derek was always so awkward on host duties, which is usually why he had Erica hire someone to host for him. With all of his social shortcomings, Derek was amazed Stiles agreed to come to see him at all. 

“No thank you,” Stiles declined, shaking his head, “It influences the taste of my milk.”

Derek hadn’t thought of that. But, Derek wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t _Stiles_ he was hooked on, not just his milk. Just the simple act of nursing from him was so erotic he didn’t even care what the specific flavor was, he just wanted to taste _Stiles._

He poured himself a whisky and a glass of water for Stiles, bring it to him just as he stepped back into the hallway from setting his stuff down. 

“You have a lovely apartment,” Stiles said, eyes distracted by a painting on the wall. 

“Thank you,” Derek handed Stiles his glass. “Would you like a tour?”

Stiles had been pretty distracted by the place since he had shown up, and Derek could tell he was trying to hide just how interested he was. Derek didn’t often have visitors back at his place, so he decided to indulge Stiles’ curiosity and show him around.

Stiles looked at Derek, grinning interestedly. “ _Yes_ , please.”

Derek gave Stiles a tour of the penthouse, telling him the history of the building, which had built by the son of a very wealthy industrial merchant back in the 1860s. He showed him the paintings he had on the wall (that had mostly been chosen by Cora, who new several up and coming artists, but they complimented the space nicely. 

Derek led Stiles though each of the rooms, feeling a little strange having someone else in his home, but liking the fact that Stiles seemed to enjoy everything Derek had to tell him. Stiles unabashedly looked through Derek’s record collection, shaking his head and muttering in playful distaste at some of Derek’s choices. Derek pointed out the treasures he’d brought back from business trips overseas, and Stiles practically spilt his drink laughing at Derek’s poor attempt to play a didgeridoo.

When they passed by the large floor to ceiling windows that led to Derek’s expansive terrace, Stiles’ eyes brightened and he looked back at Derek with barely restrained excitement.

“Can we go outside?” he bounced a little on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah, sure,” Derek chuckled, pleased that the omega, that _Stiles_ , enjoyed Derek’s home. 

Derek slid open the glass sliding door and the two walked out onto the giant terrace balcony overlooking Manhattan. 

The lights of the city illuminated the night sky, brighter and more vibrant than the stars above. Below, you could see the light from the cars stuck in traffic, looking like tiny ants from the top floor of Derek’s building. 

The view of Central Park from Derek’s balcony was to die for, and the way Stiles was transfixed, his eyes darting around trying to take everything in at once. Derek heard Stiles mumble something under his breath, in a language he didn’t understand. Derek’s heart warmed, loving that he could show this to Stiles, that he could share this moment with him. 

Even from as high up as they were, Derek could clearly make out a horse and carriage in front of the building, a couple canoodling and lost in one another. He half wondered if he should have scheduled a ride for he and Stiles, and he made a mental note to do more planning for their next encounter. 

Stiles looked around, a massive grin on his face, taking in all of the sites. “It is breathtaking.”

Derek moved forward, coming to stand behind Stiles, breathing in his soft scent, his chest gently pressed up against Stiles’ back. 

He pointed off into the distance, “You see that over there?”

Stiles nodded, following Derek’s finger. Derek wrapped his other hand around Stiles’ waist, holding him gently against his body.

“That’s Times Square.” Derek’s view was only partially obstructed, but there was no mistaking the blinding lights of the busy section of the island. 

Derek felt Stiles’ hand come up to rest on top of his own, his long, elegant fingers intertwining with his. 

Derek pointed to another location of the city, trying to keep the growl out of his voice. Derek’s mind flashed back to that night at Dolce, having Stiles’ elegant neck in his teeth, clutched firmly while Derek fucked into his willing body. Derek was getting hard just from the memory, his concentration slipping as he became intoxicated by the proximity of Stiles’ body. 

“That,” he angled his mouth so that he was speaking lowly into Stiles’ ear, “That is the Empire State Building.” 

Stiles tilted his head to the side, exposing the column of his neck and allowing Derek closer access to his fragrant skin. Stiles firmly pressed his hips backward into Derek’s, the stiffness of Derek’s cock nestling perfectly between the subtle cleft of Stiles’ ass beneath his pants.

“It is _enormous_ ,” Stiles said breathily, a playful smirk curling on his lips. Derek laughed softly. 

“It’s even bigger up close,” he murmured against Stiles’ neck. He placed a single kiss to his skin. 

Stiles pointed to something else in the distance, “What is that?”

It took Derek a second to focus before his dragged away from Stiles and toward the direction where he was pointing. 

“That’s Rockefeller Center.” Derek nuzzled back into Stiles’ neck, inhaling the scent of his skin. “Have you ever been there before?”

“I don’t really have much extra free time.” Stiles shook his head. He pointed off to another building, “What is that?”

Derek looked up again, his mind entirely wrapped up in thoughts of stripping Stiles out of every stitch of his clothing and fucking him until he was a whimpering babbling mess under him. He was so hard he thought he was going to unzip his pants and take Stiles right there on the terrace.

When Derek’s eyes landed on the all too familiar building, he chuckled softly.

“Home away from home.”

Stiles turned around in Derek’s arms, his eyebrows furring in confusion. 

“That’s Hale Tower,” Derek clarified.

Stiles nodded and looked back out at the city, before quickly turning back to Derek with an adorable look of shock on his face. “What do you mean, ‘home away from home’? Do you work there?”

“I do.” Derek nodded. “My company owns the building.”

“ _Your_ company?” Stiles’ eyes widened, twisting around further to look at Derek, and then back to the tower.

“Well, not _mine_ , per se.” Hale Enterprises had been in the family for generations. It was their family legacy. “It’s my family’s.”

“Hale Enterprises,” Stiles said quietly to himself, his voice astonished. His head snapped back to Derek, his eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re a Hale?”

Derek nodded. “I am indeed.”

“Wow. I-” His eyes searched Derek’s face. “I didn’t know.”

“That’s alright, I didn’t expect you to.” Derek shrugged. And he meant it, he honestly didn’t. “I’m pretty private,” he smiled shyly. 

When one thought of Hale Enterprises, Derek was usually the last Hale people thought of. 

Cora was more of the socialite of the family, always out on the scene and making a colorful splash across the Page Six with other high-end, well-known members of society. Then, of course, there was Talia Hale, who since retiring had become very deeply involved in philanthropy and becoming a rather powerful presence within the Werewolf Council. 

When Talia had stepped down, her position was filled by Laura, who was just as brilliant a leader as her mother, and was leading Hale Enterprises into a bright new future in the business world. Peter, who was equally as social and scandalous as Cora, had quite the reputation of a bit of a playboy. Aside from his well-known business acumen, he was well known for his expensive taste in cars, watches and champagne. 

Of all of the Hale’s currently in the Manhattan social scene, Derek was the least known to the general public. He didn’t attend many functions and avoided the paparazzi like the plague. He showed up to large events to seal a business deal or support his mother or one of his sisters, but other than that, Derek kept to himself. 

“Why?” Stiles tiled his head to the side curiously. To everyone else, their lives seemed rather glamorous. But to Derek, it was all seemed kind of…boring. 

“Mostly because I don’t really do anything interesting,” Derek shrugged, laughing a little self-deprecatingly. “I work and I come home. That’s it.”

“And frequent lactation speakeasies,” Stiles winked, smirking playfully. 

Derek laughed out loud. 

“Would you believe me if I told you that that was the first time I had ever been to a place like that?”

Stiles regarded him for a second, and then nodded smiling. He turned around, facing Derek and circling his arms around his neck.

“I would, actually.” Stiles smiled. 

“What gave it away?” Derek rolled his eyes, not even trying to hide the sarcasm. He set his glass down on the ledge, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist. 

Stiles scratched lightly at the hair at the base of Derek’s hairline. He had the distinct desire to start purring.

“You were engaging,” Stiles shrugged, grinning shyly at Derek.

“Engaging?” Derek laughed shaking his head. “How? I hardly said a word.”

“I think I misspoke,” Stiles’ brow furrowed a little. He caught his lip between his teeth while he tried to find different words. “You engaged with me?” 

“You had it right with ‘engaging,’” Derek added. “It has a few different meanings.” 

Stiles nodded, accepting this bit of information. 

“To most, when I am at work, I am decoration.” He looked at Derek while cocking his head to the side. “But you spoke to me. And you were very gentle and respectful. Even though you were paying for me.”

At those words, Derek felt a wave of unease swell within him. “Just because someone pays for you doesn’t give them the right to be disrespectful toward you.”

Alphas were stereotyped as being overly aggressive knotheads who viewed omegas as _things_ rather than people. 

While most alphas were rather progressive and didn’t support that narrative, there were many more who held the antiquated idea that omegas were property that each alpha had a right to. Even if Dolce didn’t allow such alphas into their walls, that didn’t mean that Stiles hadn’t encountered them somewhere else. 

“I know. And so does the bar,” Stiles rolled his eyes with a soft, sarcastic smile. He stroked the side of Derek’s face soothingly. “Hence, Dolce’s very strict security policies and heavy duty security team. But even though customers are polite and do not cross the rules, doesn’t mean they engage me.” He shrugged. “You did. You were different. I figured it was your first time.”

He thinks back to how Chris and Peter had carried on with one another, not paying much attention to the omega spread before them. Derek seemed to be the only one who was sharing glances and trying (or at least _hoping_ ) to make a connection.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his breath husky.

Stiles nodded, smiling sweetly. “Yes.”

Derek kissed Stiles heatedly, the emotions that had been building up since that very first night at the club pouring into the kiss. Derek felt like every single nerve ending was on fire with all of the passion he held for this sweet little omega. 

They pulled apart dazedly and Derek rested his forehead against Stiles’.

“C’mon,” he said against Stiles’ lips, his voice husky with want, “Let’s go inside.” 

Stiles nodded, and placed a soft kiss on Derek’s lips. 

Together, they turned and headed back inside of the penthouse. 

  
  
  
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*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *
> 
> I know, this was such a short update --and disappointingly smutless compared to the last chapter-- but it was originally a part of the next part, and it was really, really long, so I wanted to break it down a little bit. 
> 
> You've all been so lovely to me, and I've really behind on replying to comments, but I promise I haven't forgotten you :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, this note has to be short and sweet: I've sunk to a shocking new low. I'm at work right now. Like, literally at my desk, in my place of business. I tried to get this up earlier this morning, but life was not having it, so I brought my flash drive with me to try and upload it during my break. Well, my boss got called to another floor for a spur of the moment meeting, and I have about 15 unsupervised minutes to post this. 
> 
> Also, I, a non-Polish speaker, used Polish in this chapter. So if anyone speaks/understands Polish and you're like, "wow, that's totally not correct," please let me know in the comments so I can fix it later. 
> 
> Update 02/19: Thank you so much anon for helping me out with some of the Polish I used in this chapter! :D
> 
> So for now, here's this, I hope you enjoy, as always you guys rock, no beta/sorry for the errors...and yeah! Enjoy!
> 
> 1 Warning in the end notes expanding on the pain kink tag.
> 
> (What have I become?)

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Inside of the penthouse, Stiles turned toward Derek, wrapping his arms around his neck, and kissing him passionately. Derek was caught off guard, but only for a second. His hands dropped to Stiles’ waist and he eagerly returned the kiss, causing Stiles to moan into his mouth.

Derek took the lead, trying to safely guide them down the hallway toward his room without tripping over something. 

As they kissed, Derek’s senses were tuned entirely on Stiles. He zoned in on the fast pace of Stiles’ heartbeat and how it seemed to skip a beat whenever their clothed erections brushed together. 

The soft, subtle scent of Stiles’ milk as he leaked wet patches through the button down, enveloped Derek’s mind, and the thicker, more pungent scent of Stiles’ slick leaking into his pants had Derek practically salivating with want. Each time one of those pained little whimpers got stuck in the back of Stiles’ throat, Derek swore he was going to melt.

In their frenzied state, the walk down the hall to Derek’s room seemed much too far. Derek couldn’t wait any longer, he had to have more of Stiles immediately. He swiveled around, changing their course, and guided them to the wall instead. 

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek broke the kiss, staring down at him. 

Stiles’ pupils were blown wide and his cheeks flushed. His lips were a swollen and pouty from Derek’s mouth, his jaw slack as his breaths came unsteadily. And when Stiles grinned up at him, want and desire written all over his face, Derek felt the last bits of his control begin to slip away. 

Derek’s mind was at war with itself. On one hand, he knew that things were moving really fast. Much faster than he had intended when he’d invited Stiles over. He really did want to take the time to get to know Stiles’ better, to get to know him _at all_ really, and see if there was any chemistry between them aside from the physical. 

But, having Stiles in his arms, softly moaning Derek’s name into his mouth as he kissed him breathless, had Derek’s wolf clawing at him from the inside. All Derek wanted to do was just strip Stiles of every single stitch of clothing and sink deep inside that tight ass, making Stiles scream and beg for his knot while he fucked him within an inch of his life. 

The smell of Stiles’ arousal mixed with Derek’s own sex-addled brain was making it hard for Derek to think, and he was struggling to hold on to any sort of rational thought at all. The only thing he could make sense of was the instinctual drive to claim his mate. 

“Derek?”

Derek must have hesitated a few moments too long, because Stiles’ eyes focused a little more intently on Derek’s face, insecurity creeping into his expression. 

“Derek?” Stiles’ voice was soft and unsure.

He snapped back into the present, willing himself to focus on the omega. From the look on Stiles’ face, Derek had a feeling he had been trying to get his attention for a while. 

“Do you-” Stiles pulled back from Derek’s body a bit, slipping his arms from around Derek’s neck. “Do still want me?” He bit his lip, gnawing on that pouty bottom lip that Derek had just been kissing before he let his thoughts get the best of him. 

A jolt of unease shot through Derek at the question, that Stiles would question Derek’s interest or think, for even a second, that Derek didn’t want him. That couldn’t be farther from the truth; Derek wanted Stiles so much it was like a necessity. He needed him so much that he could hardly function.

He pulled himself together and forced himself to think clearly, lest he do something to screw this up and send Stiles away.

“Of course,” Derek spoke, finally finding his words. 

Kicking into action, Derek leaned forward and captured Stiles’ mouth in a searing kiss, trying his just to convey everything he was feeling into the kiss. 

Stiles’ responded in kind, his arms slipping back around Derek’s neck, holding him tightly through the kiss, as if trying to keep him there, to keep him from leaving. Derek growled in the back of his throat, pleased at Stiles’ eagerness, and that Stiles had chosen him, was _still_ choosing him. 

Derek pulled back from the kiss, but still held Stiles’ close. As he gazed into Stiles’ whisky colored eyes, Derek felt completely intoxicated with the want and desire he could see there. 

“Of course I want you, Stiles. So much, you have no idea.” 

Derek could smell the soft curl of Stiles’ scent, the arousal thickening and rolling off of him in waves. Derek wondered how he had gotten so lucky to win the affections of this sweet omega. Derek inhaled deeply, losing himself in Stiles’ scent and committing it to memory. 

At Derek’s words, Stiles grinned widely. Relief rushed over his face, erasing all traces of self-doubt from before. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Stiles slid his hands down from Derek’s neck and across the top of his shoulders, spanning their width. Derek’s wolf preened, loving the idea that Stiles had been just as wild about Derek as Derek had been for him. 

Stiles hands dropped down to Derek’s hips, his fingers trailing along the edge of his jeans, softly tickling his skin of his lower abdomen, as they edged toward his zipper. Derek swallowed thickly and he felt his claws poking against the skin of his fingers, just itching to break free. His cock was pressed uncomfortably against his zipper, and he was so hard he thought he was going to go insane. 

“I was afraid you had changed your mind,” Stiles chuckled under his breath. His voice was husky with arousal, and his accent was thicker and much more pronounced, making Derek feel a little weak in the knees. Derek’s eyes practically rolled back into his head as he felt Stiles’ hand slide down to cup the bulge of his erection over his pants. He avoided Derek’s eyes as he worked to unbutton his zipper. 

“I thought you did not want me anymore.” 

The comment was meant to be casual, Derek could tell, but there was a weight behind it that left Derek with the distinct impression that Stiles hadn’t meant to say it out loud. 

Derek wasn’t even entirely sure that Stiles was talking about his behavior moments before. 

Perhaps Stiles had felt the heavy weight of insecurity in the days following Derek’s first visit to Dolce. Perhaps he had been waiting anxiously, wondering if Derek was going to reach out and call him. Perhaps he thought he had read the alpha’s behavior all wrong, and he wasn’t interested in anything other than a quick fuck. 

Stiles undid the button of Derek’s jeans, and slowly traced his finger down the line of the zipper, softly teasing him through the denim. The faint pressure against his cock was causing him to lose focus again, so he knew he had to speak now before his carnal instincts took over. Derek brought hand up to Stiles’ face, gently lifting his chin on the crook of his finger and forcing him to meet his eyes.

“I always want you. I’ve wanted nothing _but_ you since I first saw you.” 

Stiles’ hand stilled, holding its place on Derek’s zipper. 

“I’ve been going crazy thinking about you since that first night.” 

Derek swiped his thumb over Stiles’ lower lip before leaning down and kissing him again. He slotted his leg in between Stiles’ legs, pressing his thigh up against Stiles’ groin and putting pressure on his erection. 

Stiles whined high in his throat, his hips undulating against Derek’s leg, riding slowly back and forth. Derek moved in counterbalance, grinding against Stiles’ leg, working himself closer and closer to the edge.

“ _Pierdolę!_ ,” Stiles hissed sharply, breaking away from the kiss. “I’m so close-,” his voice broke off into a desperate whine and he dropped his head to Derek’s shoulder, panting hotly against his skin.

Derek could feel himself getting closer and closer to climax, and he knew that they definitely weren’t going to make it to his room. 

Derek leaned forwards, resting his forearms against the wall, just above Stiles’ shoulders. His chest was flush with Stiles’, and he could feel the soft swells of Stiles’ breasts beneath his shirt every time Stiles humped against him. 

Stiles responded by readjusting his leg so that it was pressed up against Derek’s erection, giving him something to rut against. The change of position was absolutely delicious, and Derek’s fangs dropped as he worked himself closer to orgasm. He could feel the faint pressure of his knot swelling at the base of his cock. Stiles wasn’t far away either, softly whining as he humped Derek’s leg. Derek could smell the slick leaking from Stiles’ hole and smearing between his cheeks. 

Just as Derek scented a fresh blurt of Stiles’ precome, Stiles’ hips stuttered against Derek’s leg, throwing off his rhythm. Stiles whimpered and bit down softly on the joint where Derek’s neck met his shoulder, riding his thigh and murmuring softly in a foreign tongue. The combination of Stiles’ words, as well as feeling his teeth against his neck, sent Derek over the edge. 

He let out a long, involuntary growl, his hips hunching against Stiles’ leg, hunching doggishly. Derek buried his face if the crook of Stiles’ neck, breathing in as much of his scent as he could, allowing it to wrap itself around his senses.

“Shit!” he whined, “So good, Stiles, _fuck_.” Derek’s claws scratched at the wall behind Stiles, leaving long jagged marks in the paint as he fucked against Stiles, riding out the waves of his orgasm. 

Stiles wasn’t far behind. He had one hand wrapped around Derek’s neck and the other grabbing at his ass – with surprising strength for an omega--, and he pulled Derek’s body into his own, chasing his climax. 

“Tak,” he breathed out, swiveling his hips Stiles whimpered softly, his voice caught in his throat while the rhythm of his hips stuttering against Derek. 

And though he was tired and come-drunk, Derek grinned against Stiles’ neck as he listened to Stiles, getting to hear him come because of _Derek_ , something he didn’t get to hear the first time and was forced to share with others the second time. 

This time, Stiles’ noises were all for Derek, _because_ of Derek. 

He moved back far enough to see Stiles’ face just in time to watch the pleasured expression bloom across Stiles face. Derek could smell the scent of his come hitting the air. 

His eyes were scrunched shut, his look almost pained, and his long eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. His mouth was slack and is breathing irregular, and there was a delicate, blotchy flush along his cheeks.

Stiles let out a contented hum as he came down from his high. His hips gradually slowed against Derek’s leg, and he rested his head against Derek’s shoulder. Derek brushed the hair back from Stiles’ face, and kissed his forehead. 

The two stood slumped against one another in the hallway, overheated and out of breath.

“Jezuz Maria, Derek,” Stiles panted, his voice raw. “Pierdolić!” His head flopped back, resting against the wall. Derek just nodded in agreement, unable to find his voice. He pressed a kiss to Stiles’ neck instead. 

(Later, when he had more energy to think, Derek would be embarrassed about the fact that he dry humped his date to completion in the hallway because he couldn’t get his date all the way to the bedroom.)

Derek pulled back, looking at Stiles’ flushed face. 

His eyes were closed and he wore a lopsided, satisfied grin on his face. His skin was warm and some of his sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. His heartbeat was slowing, and Derek tuned into he rhythm, anchoring himself as he felt his own heart slow to match the Stiles’, beating in sync.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he blurted. 

Stiles’ lazy grin grew wider and he opened eyes to look at Derek. 

Stiles leaned in to kiss Derek, but just when their lips were centimeters apart, his stomach growled loudly, the sound jarring in the otherwise silent apartment. 

In a flash, Stiles’ eyes went from kiss-drunk and soft to shocked, and a flush appeared high on his cheeks. 

“Oh my god, that was so embarrassing,” he groaned, closing his eyes and cringing. “Ignore it,” he laughed, shaking his head and trying to pull Derek down for a kiss. 

Derek laughed, but went willingly, capturing Stiles’ mouth in a passionate kiss. Stiles pushed off of the wall, trying to push himself into Derek’s arms. As much as Derek wanted to continue, he could hear how hungry Stiles was. He needed to be a good host— a good mate— and provide for his guest. It took every bit of Derek’s self-control to pull back from Stiles. 

“You’re hungry,” he said, resting his forehead against Stiles’. 

Stiles shrugged noncommittally, trying to brush it off. He opened his mouth to decline, but his stomach growled again, much louder than before. 

“Let’s get you something to eat,” Derek chuckled softly, kissing Stiles’ forehead and moving back to stand upright. 

“I don’t mind, it’s not important,” Stiles’ pulled Derek’s arm, trying to drag him down the hallway toward the bedroom.

“We’ll take a break and get something to eat,” he looked down at Stiles. He only had an inch or two on Stiles’ height, so he didn’t have to look down too far. 

Most of Derek’s partners in the past had been much smaller and fitting the stereotype of a small, delicate omega. Stiles didn’t really fit that mold. He was tall, his voice had a lower timber, and beneath his skin Derek could feel the corded muscle and he knew Stiles was stronger than he looked. 

Derek knew some might be bothered by their omega being a little more unconventional, but Derek didn’t mid one bit. Stiles had a gorgeous body and Derek wouldn’t change anything about it. 

“I had food delivered earlier, so it’s already prepared. Besides,” Derek winked at Stiles, “You’re going to need the energy for later,” he smirked. 

At Derek’s words, and the promise in his tone, Stiles whimpered slightly and Derek smirked, delighted at the effect he was having on Stiles. 

“I have an idea,” Stiles said, pulling Derek’s arm again, but this time without the frantic desperation he’d had before. “Why don’t we do something reminiscent of our first time together, hm?” Stiles subtly pushed his chest out and Derek’s eyes couldn’t help but fall downward to the soft swells of his breasts beneath his shirt. 

“I did offer you a private tasting, after all.” Stiles grinned mischievously. 

“Sounds perfect,” Derek grinned.

“I’ll go get changed then,” Stiles walked backward several steps, holding Derek’s gaze. He winked playfully right before he shut the door into the spare room, where the bag he’d brought was. 

“I’ll get dinner ready,” Derek called out, his voice hoarse. 

He took a few steps toward the kitchen, but realized he still had come all over his pants, so he turned around and headed back down the hall toward his room to change as well.

*  
Derek moved much slower, the thrum of pleasure still running though him from his orgasm. He hummed softly to himself as he plated the food that he’d had delivered, all the while keeping an ear out listening for Stiles. 

He subconsciously found himself tuning into Stiles’ presence, listening to his heartbeat, tuning into the rhythm of his breathing, and Derek felt a sense of peace, of oneness, that he hadn’t felt in a long time. If ever. 

Stiles had such a calming effect on Derek and he felt as though on a soul level he was going through some sort of change, as though the molecules within Derek were rearranging themselves to accommodate Stiles’ presence in his life. 

He’d heard stories about soulmate imprinting, but Derek never really gave much thought to it. When he was younger, he just written it off as a fairy tale. Something of fiction. But as he got older, he couldn’t deny that the idea of having a true mate seemed beautiful, and he found himself wanting a union like that. And as time passed, and Derek was in terrible relationship after terrible relationship, the idea that he had a true mate seemed pretty far-fetched, so he had slowly given up on the idea all together. 

Derek had arranged the food on a large platter and carried it out the living room. He dragged the glass table aside, leaving the expanse of the floor between the couch and the fireplace wide open. He didn’t want to make Stiles lie on the cold table, so he thought maybe a blanket and some cushions on the floor would provide a little more atmosphere. 

He set the food on the table, and went back to the kitchen to get the bottle of milk that had arrived that morning (which, by now, was almost empty) and more water for Stiles.

As much as he loved that Stiles was on board for getting intimate again later on, Derek looked forward to the chance to get to know Stiles better. 

Derek made sure there were enough pillows on the floor to be comfortable for the omega, and he took a few minutes to light a fire in the fireplace. 

He knew it was cheesy, but he didn’t care. Derek _was_ cheesy, and he liked sappy little romantic things like this, and it had been _so long_ since he’s had someone to be like this with, that he didn’t realize how much he missed it. 

Behind him, Derek heard the door to the spare room open and heard Stiles’ footfalls as he walked down the hallway. 

Stiles stepped into the living room looking bashful, but smelling aroused nonetheless. He was wearing the green robe, the same that he wore at Dolce the first night Derek saw him, and beneath it he was gloriously nude. 

He fidgeted with the base of his robe, a soft blush high on his cheeks. “How do you want me?”

Derek had about two dozen answers to that question. Instead, Derek cleared his throat and gestured awkwardly to the blanket he’d laid out. 

“I thought we could sit by the fire?” He cringed at the way he’d made it sound like a question instead of an answer, but Stiles didn’t seem to mind. 

Stiles nodded, biting his lip to hide a smile, and walked over to the blanket. He untied the robe and draped it on the arm of the couch. Derek nearly swallowed his tongue as he watched Stiles bare his body. He’d seen Stiles nude before, but it had been a long time since he had been up close and personal with the omega.

Stiles’ tits were mouthwatering. His nipples were a little puckered as they adjusted to the temperature of the room, but they were already pearling with little beads of milk. Derek could smell the milk beneath his skin, as well as the traces of milk Stiles had missed when he cleaned up after leaking in the hallway. 

Stiles glanced at the table and his eyes fell on the nearly empty Dolce bottle that was sitting on the table. 

“Didn’t that arrive this morning?” he asked, smirking.

Derek felt his ears go red. “I had the day off,” he muttered. 

Derek held his hand out to Stiles, who took his hand while he lowered himself onto the blanket. He adjusted a few of the pillows, before lying down comfortably on the blanket. He slid a pillow beneath his neck and upper back, which made sure his back arch deliciously, his breasts bared for Derek. 

Stiles rested his arms at his side and relaxed completely, and his body stilled as he looked up toward the ceiling. It took Derek a few seconds to recognize the pose as the one he had taken at Dolce, when he was spread out on their table. 

Silent and detached, merely there as a dish to be enjoyed. 

Derek knelt down next to Stiles, trying to catch his eyes, to rekindle the connection they’d had earlier. 

“Hey,” he said softly, trying to get Stiles’ attention. 

Stiles turned his head to Derek. The stoic expression slipped away and the interactive demeanor that Stiles had had earlier returned immediately. 

“Yes?” he smiled warmly. 

“You can talk, if you want.” Derek hoped it wasn’t that Stiles didn’t _want_ to talk. That he wanted to keep business separate from pleasure. 

“Is that okay?” Stiles asked uncertainly.

“Of course,” Derek smiled, relieved that Stiles did in fact seem interested in still talking to Derek. He sat down on the blanket and took one of Stiles’ hands in his. 

“I know at work things are a bit more…impersonal for you, but I invited you over because I wanted to get to know you better. I want you to talk,” he shrugged a shoulder, feeling awkward for the first time since Stiles had arrived at the penthouse, “I like talking to you.”

A large grin appeared on Stiles face, and he nodded, “Okay.” 

His body loosened visibly, the professional stillness melting away completely, and he looked much more….himself. “I like talking to you too,” he added. 

Derek relaxed, smiling in relief. 

His insecurities about this being just business for Stiles falling to the wayside. He could feel the surge of emotions, and he didn’t trust himself to not blurt out anything else he didn’t mean to, so Derek switched the subject.

“I hope you’re hungry, I ordered a lot.” He lifted the plate from the table, and set it on the blanket between them, allowing Stiles to see everything there was. 

Derek remembered Isaac mentioning how the omegas’ diets influenced their taste, so he wasn’t quite sure what to serve Stiles. He’d settled on a meat and cheese platter that wasn’t overly fragrant, but had a wide selection of several cheeses and several different kinds of meat to choose from. 

“A little. I tried to eat earlier, but I was nervous.” Stiles glanced down, eyeing the options. He picked up a slice of prosciutto, bringing it to his mouth. He moaned softly as he chewed, and the sound went straight to Derek’s cock. 

Derek chuckled “Not afraid, I hope.”

“No, not afraid,” Stiles shook his head, smiling shyly. “I was excited to see you.”

Derek grinned, leaning in to kiss Stiles. “I was excited to see you too.”

Stiles returned the kiss eagerly, bringing a hand up to the back of Derek’s head and holding him there. 

Derek felt chills run through his body as Stiles’ elegant fingers combed through his hair, the nails scratching against Derek’s scalp. 

Derek growled into Stiles’ mouth, and pulled away to push the plate further away on the blanket. Derek turned back to Stiles and leaned in for another passionate kiss. Stiles groaned softly and Derek broke the kiss, nipping at Stiles’ lip gently. He shifted over Stiles’ body, balancing himself on hands and knees above Stiles’ body.

His lips trailed down the column, of Stiles’ long, graceful neck, tasting his skin. He followed the path made by those adorable little moles that dotted Stiles’ skin, moving downwards until he was hovering over Stiles’ chest. He nuzzled Stiles’ breast, smelling the soft scent of milk just beneath Stiles’ skin. Derek glanced upward to find Stiles watching him, his eyes glittering with desire. 

“May I?” Derek asked, his fangs poking against his lips as he spoke. Stiles’ eyes were locked on Derek’s mouth as he spoke, the scent of his pheromones increasing sharply. 

“Please do.”

Derek latched onto Stiles’ breast, remembering at the last moment to retract his fangs so he didn’t puncture Stiles’ skin. He growled long and low in the back of his throat as the first splashes of milk hit his tongue. 

The bottle of milk that he’d ordered from Dolce was incredible. But this, tasting Stiles’ milk straight from the source, was absolutely divine. Nothing would ever compare to nursing directly from this sweet little omega. He reached down to his cock, which was flushed desperately hard, dripping precome all over Stiles’ thigh. He jacked himself a few times, teasing himself while he indulged in Stiles’ sweet cream. 

Beneath Derek, Stiles spread his thighs and made room for Derek between his legs. Derek shifted back and unfastened his pants, shoving them down his legs and kicking them off. Stiles pulled Derek’s shirt up as much as he could, rucking it up his sides. Derek pulled his over his head, tossing it over his shoulder and bending back down to lay against Stiles so he was nestled right up against Stiles’ center, their cocks rubbing together. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles stilled him with a hand, his eyes raked across Derek’s torso.

“What?” Derek paused, looking down between their bodies.

“I haven’t seen you before.” He finally looked up at Derek, “I just did not know under those suits you were hiding all of _this_.” 

Derek laughed and flexed his pecs.

This was the first time that Stiles was getting to see Derek in any state of undress. 

Up until now, Stiles had been the only one who was nude, and Derek had had the pleasure of seeing every inch of the delectable omega. But this was the first time Stiles was getting a chance to be up close and personal with Derek. 

His hand slid down his chest, tracing the line of his abs. 

“Wow,” he cleared his throat. 

Derek leaned in, kissing him heatedly. Derek thrust his hips, grinding their erections together, and Stiles’ breasts started leaking again. Derek dipped his head down and latched onto Stiles’ tit, sucking with renewed fervor. 

“Fuck!” Stiles threw his head back, and arched his chest further into Derek’s mouth, “You suck me so good.” He wrapped his hand in Derek’s hair holding him in place and rocked his erection against Derek.

Derek let go of his cock and reached down, past Stiles balls, to swipe his hand between Stiles’ ass cheeks, collecting as much of the omega’s slick as he could. Stiles was soaked, his ass still wet from earlier in the hallway, and Derek was able to gather up a decent amount in his hand. 

He brought his hand back up and took both of their cocks in his hand, using the slick as lube as he stroked them slowly, drawing out their pleasure. 

“Stiles,” Derek blurted, “I need to fuck you, I need to get inside of you.”

“Weź mnie, Derek,” Stiles whimpered, his cock drooling out more precome into Derek’s hand. “Fuck me.”

Derek pumped his hand a few more times, before he reached back down to Stiles’ ass, his fingers swiping against Stiles’ hole. He prodded Stiles’ tight rim, testing the give, and slid two fingers into his wet passage. 

Stiles slid one knee out as far as he could, giving Derek more room to work. 

“More,” he panted, “You can use more.”

Derek nodded wordlessly, and added a third finger. 

Derek could feel how tight the stretch was, and he was afraid it would be too intense from Stiles’ end.

“Is this okay? I don’t want to hurt you,” he scissored his fingers a little, trying to stretch the rim as much as he could, but Stiles’ was so tight that his fingers could hardly stretch outward.

“Hurts,” Stiles murmured, pheromones rolling off of him in heavy waves, his voice thick with lust. 

“I’m hurting you?” Derek’s hand paused. Stiles shook his head.

“Hurts,” he rolled his hips his ass taking more of Derek’s, “f’ls so good though,” he moaned, “I like it like this.” 

“You got a bit of a pain kink, baby?” Derek’s cock was leaking precome like a goddamn faucet. 

Stiles smiled softly, blushing a little, “Feels good.”

“I’ll make you feel good,” Derek leaned down suckling Stiles’ leaky tit, taking along pull of warm milk into his mouth. “I’ll give you just what you need.”

Derek sat back, sitting up between Stiles spread legs so he could focus on opening him up. He worked his fingers, scissoring as much as he could until he could move his fingers easily with little resistance. With every push of his hand into Stiles’ ass, an obscene blurt of precome would gush out on either around his fingers. 

“You get so _wet_ Stiles.” The sight alone had Derek convinced he was going to blow his load before he even got inside of Stiles’ ass. “I fucking love it. You’re so fucking sexy, baby.”

Stiles whined, reaching down and squeezing one of his nipples, pulling on it a little. 

“More, Derek” Stiles groaned, rolling his hips and riding Derek’s hand with fierce desperation. 

“You want another finger?”

Stiles shook his head. “I want you.”

Derek sat down on the blanket, his back resting against the front of the couch. Stiles got up and held on to Derek’s shoulders as he hovered over Derek’s lap. 

Derek guided Stiles onto his cock. His head was nearly too big and Derek almost suggested he add another finger, but Stiles took a deep breath and forced himself down onto Derek’s erection. 

Derek felt all the air leave his lungs, and his eyes were glued to where his cock was disappearing into Stiles. The squeeze was so tight, and Derek was going crazy with the pressure. 

“Tak!” Stiles whined, his fingers digging into Derek’s shoulders. He slid down further, taking Derek in bit by bit, pausing to bounce up and down a few times to work himself open on Derek’s dick. Each jerk of Stiles’ body caused his breasts to bounce right in front of Derek’s mouth, and while leaned forward taking one of the juicy tits into his mouth, suckling while Stiles moved.

Stiles took on hand from Derek’s shoulder, using it to jack himself a few times, his thumb swirling his head and teasing his slit. He took another breath and leaned backward, his tit falling from Derek’s mouth. Derek felt Stiles’ inner muscles clench around him suddenly and Stiles yelled out as the new angle pressed right against his prostate.

The precome drooling from Stiles’ cock was dripping onto Derek’s abdomen. He swiped a finger through the mess and popped it into his mouth, the saltiness of Stiles precome contrasting with the sweetness of Stiles’ milk. 

Stiles took about as much of Derek as he could, and adjusted his knees beneath him so he could start riding him. 

“ ‘M not sure if I can take all of you,” Stiles groaned filthily, his hips undulating, riding Derek rhythmically. “You’re so _big_.”

Derek growled, his tongue licking across his fangs, “Should have known you’d be a bit of a size queen.” Derek remembered how huge that knotting dildo from the Velvet Room was. “Bet you just love having that tight little hole filled with as much as you can, don’t you. You just love to be stuffed full.”

Stiles moaned, splaying his legs wider, his cock drooling obscenely.

“Maybe one of these days you can take both of us. You think you can handle that? Both me _and_ that big fat fake cock?”

Stiles cried out, another thick blurt of precome spilling out of his cock and sliding down his shaft.

“You think you can handle having _two_ thick alpha knots?” Derek reached down to pump Stiles cock to counter Stiles’ rhythm. “You want to be double knotted?”

“Tak! Tak! Yes, _fuck_ , Derek!” Stiles pushed himself down, Derek’s cock finally fitting inside. Stiles hardly gave himself a second to adjust to the intrusion, breathing harshly and sliding down as much of Derek’s cock as he could in one delicious, slow drag, his rim stretched tight around Derek’s shaft. 

Stiles sat settled in Derek’s lap, giving himself a minute to adjust to Derek’s girth. He was a little shaky and completely out of breath. His chest was smeared with milk, that had been leaking steadily as his arousal increased.

“There you go,” Derek cooked, petting the side of Stiles hip, kissing his collar bone. “You’ve got it, baby.”

Stiles stood up long enough to slide himself up on Derek’s cock, but then sat right back down in his lap. It wasn’t long before he was lifting himself up again and sliding back down.

Derek’s head dropped back onto the couch behind him, and he watched as Stiles slowly rode him. Derek’s eyes watched the sensuous bounce of his tits, his hands gripping Stiles’ hips tightly. 

Stiles reached down to stroke himself, his cock hard and needy. He toppled to the side a little and Derek steadied him.

“Here, baby, I’ll take care of that.” He wrapped a hand around Stiles’ cock, tightening his fist to give Stiles something to fuck into. “You just focus on your balance.”

“Dzięki,” Stiles muttered, breathlessly. Derek assumed it meant thank you. Stiles placed his hands back on Derek’s shoulders, centering himself, and Derek held Stiles hip with one hand and stroked his cock with the other. 

Stiles rode Derek mercilessly, the sexual tension they’d had for the past week coming to a head. 

Stiles looked like an angel as he fucked Derek, taking his pleasure, leaving Derek hanging on for dear life. Derek rubbed the sensitive spot at the base of Stiles’ head with his thumb, and Stiles whimpered, his rhythm faltering. 

“You close,” Derek growled, leaking forward to lick at Stiles’ tits.

“Tak,” Stiles panted. 

Derek squeezed his fist tighter and pumped faster. He bit down softly on Stiles’ nipple. 

Stiles cried out and came, clenching down tightly around Derek’s cock. Derek squeezed his eyes shut, shooting off deep in Stiles’ ass. He sucked harder around Stiles’ tit as his milk sprayed into his mouth, the milk flooding Derek’s tongue. He swallowed greedily, taking everything Stiles gave him. 

“Fuck!” Stiles whined, slowing his hips. He reached down and pinched his other nipple, his head tilting back in pleasure.

Derek stroked Stiles, slowing and softening the pressure, until Stiles squirmed with the over-sensitivity. 

He batted Derek’s hand away and then lifted Derek off of his chest. Derek’s beard was dripping with milk, and Stiles brought their mouths together, kissing him fiercely. 

“So good, alfa,” Stiles flashed a dazed grin, smelling content and sated. 

Derek pulled him back down, kissing him again. 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *  
> *  
> * 
> 
> **Warnings:** The only thing I can think right now of is Stiles has a bit of a pain kink, and encourages Derek to get down to business before he's 100% finished completely prepping Stiles. It's not super graphic and mostly referenced in passing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Guess who got her shit together and got around to posting! *points to self* *winks*
> 
> This one is a doozy. It's really long, but Derek and Stiles finally get around to having a much needed conversation and we learn a little more about Dolce. And sex! They have lots and lots of sex!
> 
> Warnings are in the end notes. There's nothing that I can think of for this chapter, however, I do have a warning about something in the next chapter. 
> 
> Hope every one (who celebrates Thanksgiving) had a wonderful holiday! 
> 
> Hope you guys like it! 
> 
> .ML

 

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Stiles sat draped over Derek with his head nuzzled into Derek’s neck. They were both sweaty, out of breath and covered in come and milk. The room was silent except for the sound of their heartbeats slowing down, and the two trying to get their breathing under control. 

Derek could already feel the come starting to cool on their skin, and knew if they stayed where they were, it was going to get uncomfortable really soon. 

“C’mon, Stiles,” Derek slid his hand up to Stiles’ hip, his thumb gently stroking the skin. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

Stiles groaned and burrowed further into Derek’s arms. “Too tired. Can’t move.”

Derek huffed a laugh, and kissed Stiles’ cheek. 

Seeing Stiles like this, all worn out and sleepy from an orgasm, triggered Derek’s basest alpha instincts, and he felt the strong urge to lick his mate clean and pamper him and take care of him while he slept. If it were any other time, he would have just hoisted Stiles up and carried him to the bathroom to clean him up. But after two mind blowing orgasms in under an hour, Derek didn’t trust his legs to carry him safely down the hallway. 

Derek shuffled downward, shifting himself so that he could reach Stiles’ breasts. He sizzled into the skin, scenting Stiles’ soft smell and the subtle scent of milk beneath his skin. He stuck out his tongue, lapping at Stiles’ nipple and catching the last drips of milk that were falling.

“You taste so fucking _good_ ” Derek rubbed his beard against Stiles’ skin, getting as much of Stiles’ scent in his hair as he could. 

“Thank you,” Stiles laughed, clenching around Derek’s softening cock. Derek groaned against Stiles’ skin, oversensitive and sore. 

“I’ve never tasted anything better in my life,” 

He didn’t think he’d be able to get hard again so soon after coming, but his dick was making a valiant effort. 

Stiles tilted his head back and laughed. “Are you always this dramatic after you come?” 

Derek tensed a little, afraid he was making an ass of himself by rambling on and on. But he glanced up and could see the playfulness in Stiles’ eyes and knew that he wasn’t making fun of him.

“I’m not being dramatic,” Derek pulled off of Stiles’ breast and looked up at him, “it’s true.” Derek wasn’t used to how easy it was to be so open with Stiles. He couldn’t remember the last time he joked around with his partner in a post orgasm glow. 

Stiles brought a hand up to Derek’s mouth and wiped around his lips. 

“You had a milk mustache,” he muttered, showing his hand to Derek. 

Derek glared playfully and gave Stiles’ palm a long, slow lick, cleaning the milk from his skin. 

“Well Dolce only hires the best of the best,” Stiles winked. “Everyone there tastes delicious. And if you think the regular stuff tastes good, then you will _love_ one of the bar’s special blends.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow, his mind filling with images of horny omegas nursing one another, their bodies writhing against one another as they were lost in the raw sensuality of it. Derek shook his head, trying to focus his attention. 

He’d save those visuals for one of the nights when he was jerking off, hot and desperate beneath his sheets. 

“I don’t think it’s a Dolce thing. It’s a you thing,” he said, a small hint of petulance in his tone, his mind still thinking about Stiles in some sort of nursing daisy chain with the other omegas. “I don’t want to try the others, I only want you.”

It wasn’t until Stiles’ smile slipped and his expression sobered, that Derek realized what he had said. Stiles’ heart beat skipped a beat, and something in his scent changed. Derek couldn’t pinpoint exactly what this new emotion was, but Derek wanted to steer the conversation away from what he’d let slip. Embarrassed, he rubbed his hands down Stiles’ side. 

“We’re filthy,” he cleared his throat. “Stay here; I’ll get something to clean you up.”

After a slight hesitation, Stiles nodded. Derek helped Stiles as he lifted up off of Derek’s lap, his cock slipping out of Stiles and a trail of slick and come pouring out with it. The heady scent had Derek losing focus. Derek steadied Stiles’ hips as he stood up, his legs shaky, and helped him lie down on the blanket. Stiles rolled onto his side, getting comfortable on the blanket and yawning sleepily. 

As Derek padded down the hallway to his room, his skin felt clammy with all the fluids that had begun to dry. He contemplated a quick shower, but he felt uneasy at the idea, his alpha instincts telling him to get back to his mate. 

Derek ran a hand towel under warm water and used it to get his skin clean. He tried to get off as much of the mess as he could without totally removing Stiles’ scent from his body. The scent of the two of them allowed Derek to pretend, even if it was just for a little while, that this was more than it was. That Stiles saw Derek as more than just some customer from the bar. Secretly, he hoped he’d smell like the omega for days. 

He cleaned the rest of himself off as quickly as he could, tossing the towel into the hamper in the corner. He grabbed another towel and ran it under the water so he could take it back to Stiles. 

On the blanket, Stiles was curled up on his side dozing quietly. 

Derek hated to wake him up, but he could see some of the splotches of come already starting to crust, so he decided to go ahead and clean off Stiles’ skin while he napped. He ran the warm, wet cloth over Stiles’ stomach, cleaning off the mess, and brought it down to wipe over his flaccid cock. 

Derek had purposely avoided Stiles’ tits when he was cleaning him up. Since Derek had nursed so much in such a short amount, Stiles’ breasts sat high and tight as he lay on his back. Derek didn’t know how long it would be before Stiles was able to provide more milk, but there was still plenty smeared all over his chest, and Derek had a very specific plans for how to clean him up. 

He brought the cloth back behind Stiles’ balls and cleaned up the slick and come that was leaking out of his hole. Derek parted Stiles’ cheeks, trying his best to be thorough, but not wake up the omega. His fingers prodded the overstretched hole, trying to scoop out as much as he could from inside. He gave Stiles’ hole one final swipe when finally Stiles stirred beneath him.

“You weren’t trying to fuck me in my sleep, were you?” Stiles’ drawled sleepily. 

“No, I wasn’t!” Derek protested immediately. He dropped the wet towel and raised his hands up in defense, shuffling back to give Stiles space. “Stiles, I-“ 

“Relax, I was kidding,” Stiles chuckled softly, opening one eye to wink at Derek. 

He rolled onto his back, splaying his knees wide, his hole gaping slightly, allowing a trickle of leftover come to dribble out. The lewd display distracted Derek so much that he almost missed when Stiles followed it up with, 

“But I would not mind if you did.”

His eyes snapped up from Stiles’ ass, finding his eyes immediately. A shudder ran down his spine, and every nerve felt alive.

“If I fucked you in your sleep?” Derek’s mouth went dry at just the thought of taking Stiles like that, of laying claim to him when he was his most vulnerable.

Stiles shrugged, a lazy grin on his face as he nodded. “I like it.”

Derek sifted through his other senses to detect any sort of lie from the omega, but Stiles’ heart rate remained steady, his eye contact unwavering, and his body remained relaxed. 

His wolf preened at the position they were in, Stiles on his back, sprawled out and bearing himself to the alpha, the room was still heavy with the scent of their coupling. Those things alone had the wolf practically purring in contentment. But then, Stiles went a step further and gave permission to take him, to use him, in such a way. Derek had never even considered that kink before, but the way his body reacted at the mere suggestion, told him it was something he was definitely curious about exploring with the omega. 

“Good to know,” Derek swallowed thickly, trying to will his body into submission. 

He returned to his work, picking up the towel and dragging it between Stiles’ cheeks. Stiles reached down and gripped his cheeks, holding himself open for Derek. Derek swallowed thickly, trying to ignore just how much the view was affecting him. 

Once finished, he set the towel on the floor beside the blanket, and got down on the blanket to lie next to Stiles. 

Stiles closed his legs, but stayed laying on his back, his hand coming up to idly play with the skin of his stomach. Derek joined Stiles on the blanked, taking a few moments to admire the omega’s graceful body. Stiles’ chest was covered in faint bite marks from where Derek had been mouthing at the skin, sucking hungrily at his tits. 

Derek relaxed, enjoying the rhythm of Stiles’ heartbeat, losing himself in the cadence. Stiles rolled into Derek’s body, slipping an arm across his hips and resting his head on Derek’s chest, just above his heart. They stayed like that for several minutes, and Derek was just about to suggest they get into his bed, which his mind zipped back to something that Stiles had said earlier. 

“Wait,” he looked down at Stiles, “ _Special_ blends? How much more special does it get?” Derek asked

Stiles smirked, looking a little smug. 

“Believe it or not, they do get a little more special.” He looked up at Derek, his eyes playful and warm. The fire in the fire place was still burning, casting a sensual glow in the room, and bathing them in an intimate warmth.

“It is not something that we advertise, but we get asked enough about it on the down low for it to be a service that we _do_ occasionally provide. Granted, you have to meet a certain set of criteria. But it is all word of mouth.”

Derek was intrigued. He leaned closer to Stiles, taking his hand into his and threading their fingers together. 

“Tell me,” he urged, his tone low and heated. Stiles squirmed up Derek’s body, bring them to eye level. 

“So, sometimes at the bar we tend to have regulars.” Stiles leaned in closer to Derek, his tone low and intimate, as if he had to speak quietly to keep others from hearing them

“Like, members?”

“Not necessarily,” Stiles shook his head, “Our members are, by definition, regulars. But most do not have a staff member at Dolce that they prefer. They like the variety that Dolce offers, so they like to sample a little bit of everyone that works there.” 

Stiles stopped talking for a moment, and looked at Derek. It wasn’t until he’d quirked an amused eyebrow that Derek realized he’d been growling. He cleared his throat, cutting off the growl, and willing his possessive wolf back into submission. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, feeling a blush heat up his ears. Stiles’ lifted their entwined hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of Derek’s hand, accepting the apology. 

“As I was saying, most customers come to Dolce for the variety. But some of our members have a specific employee that they have an affinity for and prefer to get their milk from. And if they are trusted enough and have a history of good standing with the bar, then certain information might be made available to them.” 

Derek stared at Stiles, waiting for him to continue. When his pause had gone on a little too long for Derek’s patience level, he huffed dramatically, raising his eyebrows. “Like?”

“Like,” Stiles continued, grinning at Derek’s impatience, “when their preferred omega is in season.” 

“In season for what?” Derek scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and gave Derek a look. “In _season_.” His eyebrows raised expectantly as he waited for the meaning to sink.

Derek was about to ask again, but the thought clicked in his mind, and he felt himself beginning to salivate. 

“You mean…” he licked his lips, trying to get a handle on himself.

Stiles nodded slowly, a smug grin on his face. 

_Heat_ season.

While omegas were fertile year round, they were the most fertile during their heats. It was as though everything inside of them was _driving_ them to breed with someone, leaving them in a constant state of heightened arousal. An omega’s milk was already a well-coveted delicacy, and outside of a romantic partner it was rather hard to come by. Hence, milk bars. 

But an omega’s milk while they were in heat, was the sweeter, richer, and even more delicious. Since an omega was undergoing a flood of hormones, the taste leaked into their milk, evidence of their arousal being passed on, and shared, by their partner. 

There were various types of suppressants on the market for those who either didn’t want to become pregnant, or for those who didn’t want to go through a heat at all. Many mated pairs looked at Heat Season as a great way to connect with their partner and go on a quiet getaway to spend their entire heat breeding their partner. 

The travel industry had seen a huge increase in vacation packages geared toward mates who desired a romantic Heat packages. There were packages for singles who wanted to have a little fun and spend their heats with someone (or several someones). Derek had several seen ads for cruises or resorts all boasting comfortable heat rooms, incredible resort amenities, to die for views from every hotel room and impeccable room service. 

Derek knew several people who chose such options, although Derek had always been a bit too shy to attend one of the singles events. He usually spent his ruts holed up in the penthouse sweaty and uncomfortable while he fucked his hand and various other toys, and watching an obscene amount of porn. 

(Peter Hale, on the other hand, was such a huge fan of Breeding Hotels that Derek was pretty sure he had at least half a dozen memberships to various resorts across the country.)

“So, what does it mean for you at work when you’re in season? How is it different than usual?”

“Well, we aren’t allowed to be at the bar.“ Stiles rolled toward Derek, tangling his legs with his and threading his fingers through Derek’s chest hair. 

When someone was in season, whether an omega in heat or an alpha in a rut, they could hardly focus on anything that didn’t result in fucking. So getting through a day at work was practically physically impossible. Aside from that, it was also illegal to even attempt to work when one was in season because of the potential for danger. Especially in the service industry. 

It wasn’t safe for an omega in heat to be in public, not only for their own safety, but because they could trigger the heat or rut of others they encountered. It had the potential to turn things into a fucking pandemic. Literally. 

But because of the fact that a heat or rut was unavoidable, employers had heat insurance benefits for their employees so they could take the time off without it impacting their livelihood, and it was illegal to fire someone who needed to request a heat/rut leave of absence. 

“Legally, we cannot work while we are in heat. But, if we would like the opportunity to fill a few extra bottles and make a _donation_ to the bar,” Stiles used air quotes around the word ‘donation’, “then we may contribute.”

Derek shifted his position, lying on his back. “So technically, you’re still working.” 

Stiles draped himself over Derek, his fingers still playing with Derek’s chest hair. 

“Kind of, but not,” he nibbled his lip, appearing deep in thought. “We do not go to Dolce. At all. But if we put in for heat leave, we are permitted to take a breast pump with us so we can pump at home. To borrow the equipment, we have to sign out it out from the supply room, and every night that we’re on heat leave, a Dolce employee will come over and pick up our _contribution_ to bring it back to the bar.”

Derek wanted to laugh at the ridiculous of Stiles’ euphemisms like ‘donation’ and ‘contribution’. It all seemed so silly (not to mention, very thinly veiled). 

But Derek knew how strict Season Laws were, and the punishments for breaking such laws were very unforgiving. All of the careful wording and euphemisms were the only loop holes that made sure Dolce wasn’t stripped of its permits, steeply fined and plunged into a heavy lawsuit by the State. 

As long as it was voluntary, and the employees weren’t forced to participate, then Derek didn’t mind if they had a gray area. 

“So they pick up the milk and sell it to customers?” Derek arranged Stiles’ leg over his hips, draping it over his groin. 

Stiles shifted his hips, rubbing his half hard cock into Derek’s hip. Derek reached out to tweak one of Stiles’ nipples gently, catching a drop of milk onto his finger. 

“Yes. But only if they have someone in mind.” 

Derek brought his finger to his mouth, sucking the milk off the digit. He didn’t miss the way Stiles’ eyes greedily followed his hand. 

“They do not advertise, because legally they cannot make us sell our milk if we are in season. But if we know there is an interested party who is willing to pay a little extra for it, then it works out for everyone.”

“How does it work out for you if you’re not legally supposed to be working? Dolce gets the money, the customer gets the milk, but how do you benefit?”

Stiles shrugged a shoulder. “Tips.” 

Derek could feel the air quotes surrounding the word. 

“Milk from an omega in season is _very_ expensive, so the automatic gratuity can be quite lucrative depending on how many orders we fill.”

Derek knew how much a regular bottle of milk cost from Dolce. He couldn’t imagine how astronomical the black market price would be of a delicacy that was already wildly expensive when it was completely legal. 

“Dolce members aren’t billed the same way as non-members. A non-member pays for each visit _at_ that visit, whether it is table service or bar service. You receive a bill and pay before you leave.”

Stiles reached down to his chest, squeezing a few more drops of his milk onto his finger, “But members have a tab, and at the end of each month is when they settle their bill. The bill for each monthly cycle includes all the visits and services for that billing cycle.”

He lifted his hand to Derek’s mouth. Derek licked up the length of Stiles’ finger, biting the tip of his digit playfully, before sucking his finger into his mouth.

“So there’s no record of _when_ they bought a particular bottle. Just that they did buy one.” Derek looked over at Stiles, who nodded, smiling slowly. 

“They’re billed as though they had purchased a bottle at any point during that entire billing cycle, not any one specific day. The automatic gratuity is added on, and that amount goes to the employee who filled the order.” 

If there was no record of the date on file, then members weren’t connected to buying an illegal substance, and Dolce wasn’t on record as selling an illegal substance. 

“But what about the record of checking out the pumps? Wouldn’t that raise eyebrows? Why would they be letting the staff take home pumps?”

Stiles shrugged, “Even if an employee doesn’t want to donate during their heat, they’re still welcome to use the pumps.”

Being in heat would cause an omega to lactate at a rate much higher than usual. Seeing as how Dolce went out of their way to accommodate their staff and take care of their omegas, Derek thought it seemed completely reasonable that they’d offer supplies to help their omegas through their heats, just for the simple fact that they cared.

“Wait,” Derek pulled off of Stiles’ finger, “Dolce has automatic gratuity _and_ optional tipping?” 

Stiles grinned mischievously. “Are you telling me it isn’t worth it?” He quirked an eyebrow. 

He had a point there. 

“Besides, I told you, Dolce takes good care of us.” Stiles dropped his hand to Derek’s chest, this time, toying with his nipple. 

“Things weren’t always like this for us. Omegas, I mean. We make less than alphas and most betas. And before we had things like Heat Insurance and laws protecting our jobs and keeping businesses from firing us while on leave, things were pretty bad. The system was not designed by those like us, so it was not build to accommodate us. Things are more progressive now, but they have not always been.”

Omega rights had vastly progressed in the past forty years, but things were far from equal in all areas. They still had a lot of work to do as a society. Things had gotten better in the U.S., but there other countries who were much more progressive. And many places who were much, much worse.

“And if there’s one thing being an omega in a society dominated by alphas has taught us,” he continued, “It is that we need to take care of ourselves before we rely on another to take care of us.”

“Is that what brought you here?” Derek asked. 

“To America?” 

Derek nodded.

Stiles shook his head, “No. I came here for something else.” 

His expression darkened slightly, and his voice was soft and somber. Derek sensed that that subject was off limits, at least to him. So he didn’t pry any further. Instead, he shifted the conversation, hoping he hadn’t ruined the atmosphere by digging into Stiles’ personal life. 

“Where are you from exactly?” Derek had assumed it was Eastern European, but he wasn’t quite sure where.

“Polska,” he answered, the somber tone leaving his voice, a soft reminiscent smile taking its place. 

“Poland?” 

Stiles nodded, smiling softly, “A place called Wrocław.”

“How did you get started at Dolce?”

“I was asked and I accepted,” Stiles shrugged. “That was it.”

Stiles rolled across Derek and pulled the platter of food closer to their bodies. Derek remembered that he hadn’t actually fed Stiles. He set the platter on his stomach, and Stiles reached out plucking up a cheese cube and popping it into his mouth. 

He reached out to grab another cheese cube, and held it down to Derek’s mouth. 

Derek grinned, “Had you heard of Dolce before you started working there?” He took a bite of the cheese, winking at Stiles as he chewed. 

“No,” Stiles looked at the other items on the platter, “but a friend of mine knew some people who worked there, and it was a reliable place. They offer tours of the bar and let you talk to the other employees, to let you get a feel for the place before you sign a contract.” 

“But, why this? Why not another career field?”

“Derek, I lactate anyway,” Stiles laughed out loud. “Why not make a shitload of money off of it?”

Derek knew Stiles wasn’t trying to make him feel bad, but he blushed all the same. It’s not like Derek was in any sort of position to judge Stiles for working at a lactation bar, seeing as how he himself was a customer. Derek was only asking because he was genuinely curious, not because he was trying to shame Stiles about his decisions. He had a feeling he was digging himself into a hole, and he regretted even asking Stiles in the first place. 

Sensing Derek’s mood, Stiles leaned in and kissed him softly, “I’m sorry, I am not trying to make you feel bad.” 

“You didn’t.” Derek didn’t sound very convincing. 

Stiles rolled his eyes, stroking the side of Derek’s cheek with his finger, pointedly not calling Derek out on the lie.

“Everything we do there is up to us,” Stiles continued, trying to make Derek feel better. “Employees aren’t required to be sexual. The services offered differ from employee to employee, depending on their boundaries.” 

“So they don’t make you have sex with customers or anything?”

Stiles shook his head, smiling softly at Derek. “I like sex and I was having it anyway. So again, why not get paid a shitload of money for it?”

“Okay, I get the hint,” Derek chuckled, lifting his hands in defense. “You’re not being coerced into this.”

“That’s the thing about Dolce, Derek,” Stiles trailed his finger down Derek’s chest. Derek could feel Stiles’ erection hard against his side. 

“We choose who we want to be sexual with. We have the power. And if we need them, Security is there in case things get out of control. If we don’t want to serve a customer, we don’t. If we want them removed because they’ve threatened us or made us feel uncomfortable or unsafe, then they’re gone without question.” Stiles shrugged casually, “We call the shots, we have the control. Nobody forces us to do anything.”

Derek thought back to his first night at Dolce. He remembered Isaac telling him he would check the availability of the omegas on hand to see who was available for sexual services. He remembered the ever present security guards, the background checks, the constant communication between employees on their headsets. 

As an alpha, it was easy to think they were going into a den that promised them great riches, like the land of milk and honey. They were so caught up in the taboo of being in an omega bar and the services and the luxury of it all, that they didn’t even notice that they had fewer rights in that one little building on a quiet street in the shadows of Manhattan, than they had in the entire country. 

They were watched, monitored, and were subject to immediate removal and banishment in a way that they weren’t in the regular world. And all at the say of the staff, which was overwhelmingly omega. 

As an alpha, Derek thought he should be annoyed at that. But he couldn’t help but think that the whole thing was _really fucking cool_. 

“I wasn’t trying to judge,” he said softly.

“I know,” Stiles said, his eyes kind and warm. “I know you weren’t.”

Stiles rolled on top of Derek, covering his body with his own, and kissing him deeply. The weight of Stiles’ body put delicious friction on Derek’s cock, and he gave a few shallow thrusts up into Stiles’ hips. 

Derek moaned into the kiss, sliding his hand down Stiles’ back and toward his ass. Stiles started undulating against Derek, stimulating himself against Derek’s body. Derek slipped a finger in between Stiles’ crack, gently petting his hole. It was slippery with slick, and still slightly gaped from their last fucking. 

Stiles broke the kiss groaning loudly into Derek’s neck. Derek felt the precome from Stiles’ cock dripping into his pubic hair. And even though Derek knew that wasn’t what Stiles was intentionally doing, his wolf practically roared at being scent marked by his mate in such an intimate place. 

On top of him, Stiles shivered, and at first Derek thought it was out of arousal, but then he could feel the goosebumps on Stiles’ skin. 

“Are you cold?”

“A little,” Stiles said against Derek’s neck. 

Derek cursed inwardly, angry at himself for not remembering that Stiles was human. Just because Derek ran at a higher temperature and was comfortable in the apartment completely nude, didn’t mean Stiles would be. 

“What can I do,” he kissed the skin of Stiles’ shoulder, “How can I make you comfortable.”

He felt Stiles’ smile against his skin. “Maybe you should warm me up, alpha?” he purred. 

Derek swore under his breath, his hips involuntarily fucking up into Stiles. Stiles chuckled softly. 

Stiles rolled off of Derek and onto his back on the blanket. His cock was hard, curled up against his belly, and leaking into his happy trial. He ran one hand through his hair, wiping it off of his forehead. The other hand dropped down to his cock, stroking himself a few times to relieve the tension. 

Derek reached out and stroked a finger down Stiles’ happy trail. 

“I never noticed this before,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, “At Dolce, I mean.” 

He leaned in and latched onto Stiles’ small perky breast, sucking softly, causing Stiles to moan and another blurt of precome to drool from his slit. 

“I shave it for work.” 

He brought a hand to his chest, squeezing his tit and drawing more milk for Derek. 

Derek leaned in greedily, taking Stiles into his mouth and sucking in long pulls. 

“Fuck, Derek,” Stiles groaned, his head falling backward to the floor.

“If you want,” Derek said, his words muffled around Stiles’ skin.

Stiles laughed, covering his face with his hand. “That was so cheesy.”

Derek pulled off of Stiles tit and leaned up to capture Stiles’ mouth in a searing kiss. “Yeah, it was,” he muttered against his lips. “But I mean, you got all dressed up and everything. I’d hate for that outfit to go to waste. I need to give you the full Derek Hale experience, cheesy pick-up lines and all.”

“I do not really dress up that often,” Stiles laughed against Derek’s mouth, an embarrassed flush coloring his cheeks. “I mean, I dress up for work. But otherwise, not really.”

Derek remembered how uncomfortable Stiles looked in the shirt and slacks. “Well, if it’s any consolation, you looked very nice in that shirt.”

Stiles tilted his head back and laughed, bearing his neck. Derek watched the pale skin of his elegant neck, eyeing the skin hungrily. What he wouldn’t give to leave a claiming bite on that long beautiful neck of Stiles’. 

“Scott will be pleased,” he smiled. “It is his shirt.”

Derek stilled, an uncomfortable feeling piercing his stomach. 

He leaned back from Stiles so that he could meet his eyes. The only Scott he knew of was the Scott at the bar, and his heart sank at the idea that Stiles already had an alpha. 

“Scott?” Derek swallowed his throat tight. “He’s the one who works at Dolce right?”

Stiles nodded. “At the bar.”

Surely Stiles wouldn’t be here with Derek if he already had someone… 

_Unless this whole thing really was just business._

“He let me borrow it for tonight,” Stiles nodded. “He just likes to look out for me.”

Derek felt a surge of jealously. He didn’t smell anything on Stiles’ – _Scott’s_ —shirt, but that didn’t mean that Stiles wasn’t taken. It wasn’t unheard of for some modern couples to have a more open arrangement with their mates, or for the term ‘pack’ to have a more polyamorous connotation. 

And as much as he didn’t want to know the answer, Derek knew he had to ask. For his own sanity. 

“Are you two… I mean,” he hated himself for how insecure he sounded. It was literally none of his business. “He’s not your alpha, is he?” 

“Scott?!” Stiles looked up at Derek abruptly with a horrified expression, “Ew! No!” He let out a surprised laugh. “No, no, no,” he shook his head, “We are just friends, that is all.”

The relief flooded through him at Stiles answer. Derek had no idea where all this possessiveness was even coming from. He had never been ‘That Alpha’ who got all territorial. But when it came to Stiles, he couldn’t seem to control it. 

“Relax,” Stiles smiled, choosing not to comment on Derek’s obvious jealousy. He ran a hand down Derek’s chest. “Scott is my best friend. He helped me get ready tonight.”

Derek nodded, taking a few moments to calm himself. 

“He served me the other night when I went to see you.” Derek remembered the not so subtle warning the alpha had given him. 

“He did?”

He nodded, then remembered the female omega and how she knew about Derek’s VIP invite and how Stiles was the one to leave it for him.

“I think I need to warn you, there was another omega there, a woman, she and Scott sort of…”

“Steamrolled you?” Stiles sighed in exasperation.

“I didn’t say anything about you, I swear,” he raised his hands defensively, “I wouldn’t get you in trouble like that. But they know about you inviting me to the club.”

“I know,” he smiled, shaking his head. “I thought they might say something to you. That is alright though, I trust them.”

“Yeah?’ 

“Yeah. They’re good people.” Stiles nodded, “Scott and the female omega are mates, in fact.”

“The bartender and the omega?”

Stiles nodded. “That’s actually how they met. At the bar. A few years ago, after they had gotten together, he was up for a promotion to another section, but he turned it down,” Stiles smiled dreamily. “He likes to keep an eye on her.”

“How sweet.” Derek snorted sarcastically. 

He admired Scott’s resolve; he didn’t think he could be around hordes of alphas who wanted to milk his omega right in front of him. 

Derek liked to think he had a strong handle on his jealously, but he was well aware of his own limits. He could watch Stiles’ stripping on stage and fucking himself on a giant knotted dildo, so long as he didn’t have to watch any of the horny alphas putting their mouths (or anything else) on Stiles’ body. If he would have been forced to watch other alphas in the Velvet Lounge nursing from Stiles, he would have ripped their throats out. 

Even if they were together, which they weren’t, Derek knew that his wolf wouldn’t have been able to rest until he had covered the smell of other alphas with his own scent, making sure Stiles knew damn well that the other alphas could look and very occasionally taste, but at the end of the day, it was Derek’s name Stiles would be moaning while Derek knotted him up good and tight after a long shift at the bar.

“I think it is romantic.” Stiles said dreamily. 

Derek’s mind snapped back to the present. He subtly brushed his hips against Stiles.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” Derek brought his lips down to Stiles’ chest to busy himself, trying not appear desperately curious about Stiles’ answer. Because he totally was. 

To Derek’s relief, Stiles shook his head. 

“I am unmated.” He looked down at Derek, his expression confused, “Did you think I would be here if I was?”

“I don’t know,” Derek shrugged half-heartedly. “To be honest, I’m still a little unsure why you’re here.” 

Stiles cocked his head to the side, his expression definitely caught off guard. He pushed Derek up off of him, and sat up on the blanket. 

Derek sighed internally, frustrated with himself for fucking this up. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just taken what Stiles was giving him and not asked so many questions. He rubbed a hand down his face and sat up as well, turning to face Stiles. 

Stiles looked as though he was mulling something over, or getting the words together in his head before he started speaking. 

After several moments, which felt like an eternity to Derek, Stiles turned toward him with an unreadable expression. Derek wasn’t sure if Stiles was offended or mad. Or both. 

“Derek, what exactly seems to be the confusion?” His voice was very careful and measured, sounding calm and casual, but Derek could hear the weight behind the question. 

Derek had fucked up enough already by trying to be subtle, so he figured being direct was the best way to handle this. 

“Are you here because of work, or are you here for me?” Derek asked, laying it all out in the open. “What is this-“ he paused, scratching his beard, “I mean, what am I to you?”

Stiles stared at him, and Derek could see the wheels turning in his head. The fact that Stiles didn’t seem to have a simple answer right away made Derek feel very exposed, and perhaps a little stupid for thinking he’d have a place of prominence in Stiles’ life. 

He could feel his hope vanish as he waited for Stiles to answer the question. 

Derek was no stranger to maintaining eye contact during an uncomfortable conversation. At work, he was in meetings day in and day out, glaring to help negotiations with difficult business partners. Derek could out-glare just about anyone. (Even Peter. One time, they’d had a stare-off in the office. It lasted all afternoon and several employees, who’d bet on the wrong Hale, ended up losing a lot of money.) 

Derek couldn’t even bring himself to maintain eye contact with Stiles. It was easy to do at work, because that was business, it wasn’t a reflection of who Derek was as a person or his self-worth. But this was personal, and it wasn’t about money or contracts, it involved Derek’s heart. Something he wasn’t used to putting up for negotiation. And the thought that Stiles only say Derek as some sad, lonely alpha who foolishly lusted after omegas in a bar, mistaking their kindness for attraction, made Derek feel pathetic. 

He looked over Stiles’ shoulder at the fireplace instead. 

“I get that this is your job,” his voice sounded detached, even to his own ears. “It’s your job to be interested in me.”

“I am,” Stiles said, sounding confused. He opened his mouth to say something else, but then closed it suddenly.

A split second later, Stiles’ breath hitched and his heart fluttered. And had Derek been looking at Stiles’ face, he would have seen the light in Stiles’ eyes as everything clicked into place.

Stiles moved closer to Derek, putting himself directly into his line of sight. He reached out and took Derek’s chin in his hand, guiding him to look at him. Derek expected to see barely restrained laughter, or sarcasm or some expression that told him that Stiles thought that he was a fool. 

But instead, when his eyes met Stiles’, he saw understanding. He didn’t see someone who thought he was pathetic for falling for a sex worker, or mistake them doing their job as something else. Derek saw warmth and honesty, the same thing he’d seen in Stiles all night. Stiles was completely open and vulnerable and something in his expression seemed desperate to make Derek understand that. 

Stiles took Derek’s face into his hands, cradling his face. He leaned in and placed a soft, delicate kiss to the corner of Derek’s mouth. 

“I am here for you,” Stiles said, his voice soft and earnest. “I thought I had made myself clear.”

“Well, I knew why you were _here_ ,” Derek gestured absently, indicating the penthouse. He knew Stiles was at the apartment tonight, because Derek had called him. But that didn’t answer what this was for Stiles. Business, or—

“I just didn’t quite know why you were…here.”

“You,” Stiles said without hesitation. He exhaled sharply, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to think of what he wanted to say. “And, like, I know we do not know one another much. But I want to _get_ to know you.” 

“So this isn’t work for you, like some sort of off the menu service for a customer?” Derek felt the hope tentatively make its way through his chest. 

“Nie.” Stiles leaned in, brushing a kiss to the corner of Derek’s mouth. And when he spoke again, his voice was determined and unwavering. “I like you, Derek,” Stiles purred, “I know I did not really make that very clear from the start, but,” he grinned, his smile soft and warm, “I like you. _That_ is why I gave you my phone number and why I agreed to meet with you.” Stiles scooted closer to Derek, leaning in toward his lips, “because I wanted to see you again.”

Derek leaned in, kissing Stiles fiercely, his heart practically doing somersaults that it wasn’t just him. That he wasn’t the only one who felt something. That Stiles actually saw something in Derek, and wanted him just as much as Derek had wanted him. 

The two separated, and Stiles opened his mouth to speak, before closing his mouth. He looked up at Derek again, and continued on, “And if I am honest, I was not really too sure what this was for you.” 

He reached out and scratched his elegant fingers through the scruff of Derek’s beard. Derek’s eyelids briefly fluttered shut, lost in feeling of Stiles’ hands on him. 

“I knew why you called me. But I didn’t know why you _called_ me.” Stiles smirked, using Derek’s phrasing from before. He swallowed, looking down briefly, seeming to summon courage, “Maybe a little bit of me was hoping that you were interested in something more. But if all that you wanted was just business, I would have been happy with that.”

Derek thought back to how Stiles seemed eager on the phone, and how he had seemed to think Derek wouldn’t want to schedule a visit with him because of something as silly as the day of the week. 

He also thought back to how earlier in the hallway, Stiles had seemed overeager to get Derek into the bedroom. If Stiles had thought that Derek only wanted sex, then it made sense that he was using that to try and hold Derek’s interest. And when Derek tried to steer them back to the living room, Stiles got nervous that Derek was changing his mind. That Derek was rejecting him or decided he didn’t want him. 

And Derek realized that Stiles had been feeling just as insecure about this as Derek had. 

“Oh god, Stiles, I absolutely want something more with you,” Derek said, scooting forward. “I _am_ interested in more. I just didn’t know what you were willing to give.” Derek’s could feel his own heart fluttering wildly in his chest. “I was yours from the first moment you walked into that booth.” 

Stiles was scent was awash with happiness and satisfaction, and as much as Derek loved the scent of Stiles’ arousal, this scent affected Derek on a soul level, and he knew he wanted to make Stiles smell like this as much as possible. 

“I was offered a membership,” he smiled sheepishly, remembering Lydia’s offer that first night at Dolce.

“But you refused it.” Stiles laughed, nudging Derek’s knee with his own.

“How did you know that?” Derek’s brows furrowed in confusion. The only people who had been in the room were Derek and Lydia (and the twins guarding the door). 

Stiles chuckled and ran a finger lightly over the confused furrow on Derek's forehead. He brought his hand up to his face and softly tapped his ear. “I heard you over the headset.” 

“You were wearing a headset?” He didn’t remember seeing anything in the omega’s ear, not even a small, discreet earbud. Granted, Derek was a little distracted that night. 

Stiles shook his head. 

“Nie," he laughed. “I took Isaac’s, when he came to escort me back to the dressing room. I was telling Lydia she needed to invite you to get membership. It is invite only, you cannot ask for one. But then you told her no, and I did not know if that would be the last time I would see you.”

Derek thought back and it did seem as though Lydia’s attention was…divided. 

Had Stiles really been trying to find another way to see Derek?

His heart warmed at the idea that Stiles had been the one making her ask all those things, that Stiles had known even then that he wanted to see Derek again. 

“You heard me turn it down, and that’s why you sent Isaac out with your number.”

“Tak,” Stiles nodded, grinning brightly. “I told him to tell others, if they tried to stop him, that you had forgotten an important paper for your business meeting.” And then quieter, almost shyly. “I was afraid I would never see you again.” A faint blush colored his cheeks.

Derek laughed warmly, “I thought about accepting the membership offer so that I could see you again, but I thought it would have been creepy!”

“Look at us, such idiots!” Stiles chuckled, shaking his head. “This is better though. I like that it happened like this.”

“Me too.” Derek nodded, leaning in to kiss Stiles on the lips. Without breaking the kiss Stiles crawled into his lap, straddling him. He pulled back and his cheeks were flushed, his lips kiss swollen. 

“Everything,” he said, a small flush rising on his cheeks. “What I’m offering, is everything. If that’s what you want.” 

“Absolutely. I want everything you want to give.” Derek whispered quietly. 

If Stiles was offering Derek a chance at something more, then he was going to take it. The connection he had with Stiles was unlike anything he’d had before, and he wasn’t going to let it go without a fight. 

“I don’t care that you work at Dolce.” Derek rasped, hoping that Stiles could feel his sincerity. He picked up Stiles’ hand and placed it on his chest, hoping that Stiles would be able to feel the steady beat of his heart and know he was being truthful. “I don’t care that all those other alphas get to see you like that at the bar. I still want you. I still want everything you want to give me.”

Stiles surged forward, kissing Derek harshly. Derek almost toppled over, but caught himself at the last moment. 

“Then take it,” he murmured against Derek’s lips. “It’s yours, alfa.”

Derek didn’t need to be told twice. He surged forward, kissing Stiles again. Stiles whimpered and he could smell another blurt of precome drip out of Stiles’ cock. 

“Derek,” Stiles whined impatiently, his cock leaking insistently, “I need you.” 

Derek chuckled reaching down and circling his hand around Stiles’ cock, “You’re a little bossy for an omega.”

“It is part of my charm,” Stiles said cheekily. “What’s the matter, not used to being bossed around because you’re a big bad alpha?”

“Not really,” Derek laughed. He leaned in and kissed Stiles, sliding his hand slowly up and down Stiles’ erection, teasing him. “I like it though.”

Stiles winked cheekily and rocked his hips into Derek’s hand, his eyelids fluttering shut. 

“I wanted you to knot me so bad that night,” he rambled, his breath thick with desperate want. “I was going crazy feeling you press against me from the outside. Feeling you so close, but not where I needed you. Not _inside_ of me.”

Stiles was leaking precome into Derek’s hand, a steady trickle of slick leaking out of his hole. Derek growled against Stiles’ throat, the pin prick of his fangs pressing against the inside of his gums. 

“You just had me earlier, wasn’t that enough?” he nipped at Stiles’ lips, his teeth only grazing the skin.

Stiles shook his head. “Didn’t knot me though,” his voice was a whisper, but Derek could still hear the needy ache in his voice. 

“Is that what you want?” Derek’s voice was gravelly and thick with arousal, the wolf and man blending together momentarily. “You what my knot, huh?”

Stiles whimpered, slowly fucking into Derek’s hand. “So fucking bad.”

Derek kissed Stiles, licking into his mouth. He gripped the back of Stiles’ neck, pulling him back so he could look into his eyes. Derek felt the red bleed into his eyes, “Get on your knees, let me see you be a good boy for me.”

Stiles whimpered again, his ass leaking another blob of slick onto Derek’s lap. He slid off of Derek’s lap, coming to his knees between Derek’s spread leg, looking up with wide yes. The image alone had Derek feeling the pressure of his knot swelling at the base of his cock.

Derek reached down to squeeze the base of his cock, squeezing the sensitive bulge that was beginning to swell. 

“I don’t know if you can take it. “ Derek leaned forward, his cock jutting up obscenely, his flushed head just inches from Stiles’ plushy mouth. Derek leaned forward, reaching down to circle a single around Stiles’ head, his nail just gently stroking at Stiles’ piss slit. 

Stiles reached up to grab Derek’s cock, but Derek batted his hands away. 

“Be a good boy for me and keep your hands to yourself.” Stiles let out a tiny intake of breath, a thick gush of slick dripping out of his hole. 

Derek kept teasing Stiles’ erection with one hand, but brought the other hand down, past Stiles’ balls, to pet his wet, slick-drenched hole. 

“Fuck, Stiles, you’re leaking,” Derek glanced down at Stiles’ tits which were dripping down his chest in steady streams. 

Derek leaned in and nipped the soft skin at the base of Stiles’ neck, just letting his fangs lightly graze the heated flesh. He brought his mouth to Stiles’ ear, whispering huskily to the omega as he teased him. 

He finally wrapped his hand around Stiles’ cock, causing Stiles to jerk upward, and push his erection into Derek’s hand. Derek pumped his shaft, using Stiles’ precome as lube. 

“You’re leaking here too.” He swiped his thumb over Stiles’ slit, catching a pearl of precome and smearing it into the sensitive skin of his head. 

Stiles turned his head, capturing Derek’s lips in a heated his, moaning into his mouth. 

Derek broke the kiss and looked down devilishly into the omegas lust-drunk expression. 

He circled the fluttering rim of Stiles’ ass, gathering the slick that was dripping out, and slid two fingers inside of his needy hole. 

“You’re just dripping out of all of your holes, aren’t you, Stiles?” he growled, licking into Stiles’ open, panting mouth. 

Stiles blushed biting his plushy lower lip. “Please, alfa,” he keened, pushing his ass back, trying to get Derek’s fingers inside of his body.

Derek sat up and jacked his cock loosely. He was already close, and he didn’t want to come on Stiles’ face. He was saving his load for that tight little omega ass. 

“Play with yourself for a little bit.” Derek flashed the red of his eyes at Stiles, “Get ready for me.” 

Stiles grinned filthily, and scooted back a few feet from the couch. He rolled over onto his stomach and shuffled until he was on his knees, legs wide and his hole exposed. From this position, Derek could see his flushed, hard cock bouncing as Stiles adjusted himself, a trail of precome hanging down and nearly touching the duvet. Stiles’ hole was flushed and rosy and, fluttering slightly at the attention it was getting. 

Derek reached a finger out and stroked the skin, allowing his finger to catch on the slight gape. 

Stiles purred and reached back, working his fingers into his ass, stretching and scissoring, getting himself ready to take Derek’s alpha cock. 

Derek had a flash to that night back at the club, and the jeweled plug Stiles was wearing. 

“That plug you were wearing for work, is that a part of your uniform for the bar?”

“Nie,” Stiles shook his head. “I mean, we have to wear one, to stay ready for customers. But it does not have to be that specific plug. Why?”

“If I bought you a plug, could you wear it during your shift?” 

Stiles swore under his breath, another thick blob of precome dribbling out of his slit. 

“Tak. I would wear your plug.”

Derek liked the idea that Stiles could have an intimate reminder of him during work. How he could always be split open by something of Derek’s. 

“I’ll pick one out for you then,” he growled, somehow getting harder at the idea of picking out a toy for Stiles.

“Derek, please,” Stiles’ pupils were blown wide, his mouth parted, lips bitten red. “I want you,” he whispered.

Derek leaned forward and stuck his fingers in Stiles’ hole alongside of Stiles’ fingers, his rim stretching wide against the digits. He was still open from earlier, but Derek knew his knot was going to swell to a much larger size, and he worried that it might be too much for Stiles’ to take. 

“My knot is a hell of a lot bigger than that, baby. It’s gonna stretch you so fucking wide, I don’t know if you can handle it.” Derek massaged his fingers against Stiles’ prostate, enjoying the way Stiles was falling apart. Stiles moaned, his head hanging down beneath his shoulders, his elbows buckling slightly. 

“I don’t know if I can fit it in that tight little hole of yours.” 

“Make it fit,” Stiles whined. He slipped his hand out of his ass, using it to brace himself and he pushed back against Derek’s hand fucking himself on his fingers. He spread his legs open wider, his ass leaking obscenely around Derek’s hand. 

Stiles was still pretty open from earlier, and their combined stretching had definitely helped, but Derek knew it was still going to be a tight fit. Derek was leaking precome steadily, his hips occasionally humping forward, humping into the air. He was hanging onto self-control by the skin of his teeth, but he _needed_ to get inside of Stiles soon. 

He’d make it fit if he had too. He’d make it fit so good that nothing else would ever satisfy Stiles as much as Derek’s knot, and he’d leave Stiles begging to come back for more. 

Derek’s knees weakened at the idea of forcing Stiles’ open on his knot, stretching him out and open and making him take every single inch of him. He pulled his fingers out of Stiles’ hole, a trail of slick coating his fingers, a filmy trail still connecting his digits to Stiles’ ass. 

“Are you ready for me, Stiles?” Derek grunted, scooting of the couch and onto the floor, behind Stiles.

Stiles peeked back around at Derek, and pushed his ass out as far as he could, presenting so prettily for him.

“Please, alpha,” he whimpered.

Derek growled and gripped the smooth skin of Stiles’ ass, pulling his cheeks apart and exposing his hole, which was rosy red and had a thick trail of slick oozing out of it. Derek swiped his hands through the mess, bringing his hand up to his mouth. 

The scent was nearly as intoxicating as Stiles’ milk, and Derek closed his eyes and took a long lick, growling low in his throat. Craving more, Derek leaned in toward Stiles’ ass and licked a long stripe up Stiles’ crack before he dove inward, rimming Stiles in earnest, mouthing greedily at his hole. 

“Yes, Derek, fuck,” he hissed out. He was leaking precome all over the blanket, and Derek swore he’d never wash this blanket ever again . 

Stiles spread his legs wider, trying to give Derek more room to work. He reached back, his hands threading through Derek’s hair and pulling him further into his ass, riding his face. 

Derek pulled back, eyeing Stiles’ ass and admiring the sinful view. The skin was pink and scratched from Derek’s beard, his hole glistening. 

“You saw my show the other night,” Stiles whined, pushing his ass back toward Derek, presenting, saliva and slick smeared across the skin of his cheeks. “You’ve seen how much I can take.”

“Yeah, I did,” Derek groaned, squeezing the base of his cock at the memory of Stiles riding that fake cock, panting and pinching his milky nipples as he rode the giant dildo. 

“Wanted it to be you,” Stiles panted hotly. He looked back at Derek, eyes locking with his. 

“I wanted it to be me, little one.” Derek gripped Stiles’ ass cheek, spreading him wide. 

Stiles moaned and dropped a hand down to his own neglected cock. Before he could make contact, however, Derek reached down and slapped Stiles’ hand away from his erection. He threaded him fingers through Stiles’ hair, pulling his head back, his throat arching almost painfully. Derek leaned over, draping himself over Stiles’ back. His drooling alpha cock rubbing against Stiles’ balls teasingly. 

Derek mouthed at the skin beneath Stiles’ ear, “Do you know how hard it was to sit there and watch you perform like that?” 

Stiles whimpered, grinding back into Derek, trying to rub against Derek’s cock. 

“To see you riding that fake cock when I knew, I _knew_ , that it wasn’t as good as mine. That it couldn’t fill you up the way that I could? I had to fight every single instinct to not walk up there and just _take_ you, just _show you_ what a real cock could do,” Derek dragged his fangs along the back of Stiles’ neck, scraping the skin gently, not biting, but letting the omega know just how close he was to being claimed by the horny alpha. 

“Do you know how much I wanted to mount you right there on that stage? Just wreck that hole of yours in front of all those other alphas and let them know who the only one who could take care of you was.”

“Yes,” Stiles hissed. “Please, alpha- _Derek_ , please!”

Derek let go of Stiles’ hair, reaching back to test one final time to make sure Stiles was stretched enough. His cock would fit just fine, but Derek knew it still going to stretch quite a bit when he knotted Stiles. 

He wanted Stiles to feel every single inch of him. He wanted Stiles hanging off of his knot shaking and breathless with how full he was. He wanted Stiles to remember how full Derek made him, so that every time he rode that dildo during a show, he’d remember how it just wasn’t enough. 

Derek lined up, whining high in his throat when his tip snagged against Stiles’ wet, hot rim. 

Stiles reacted too, pushing his ass back, trying to get Derek inside. He looked over his shoulder toward Derek, spreading his knees wider. He locked eyes with Derek, and gave him a filthy smirk, mischief twinkling in his eyes as he challenged the alpha. That was all the incentive Derek needed, and he pushed forward, sinking into Stiles’ body. 

Derek grabbed onto Stiles shoulder, using it as leverage as he pounded into the omega. 

“Yes,” Stiles hissed, pushing his hips back and meeting Derek’s powerful thrusts. Stiles balanced on one hand as he brushed the other down his chest, squeezing a tit firmly. Derek could smell the scent of the sweet milk hitting the air, and Derek almost regretted not having the omega on his back so he could drink from him at the same time. Stiles dropped his hand down to his cock, wrapping a hand around himself. 

He paused his thrusts long enough out pull out of Stiles. Stiles looked back, confused and whimpering at the loss, but Derek shushed him. 

“Want to see you, baby,” he murmured. He rearranged Stiles so he was laying on his side, Derek still standing on his knees, before he slid right back inside. He used one hand to push Stiles’ shoulder back toward the floor, exposing his tit so he could latch on. 

Stiles chuckled breathlessly, “Just can’t get enough, can you,” he let go of his cock to run his hand through Derek’s hair, scratching his scalp. Derek growled, his claws threatening to pop out where they held Stiles hip. 

He reached his hand down, jacking Stiles’ cock in opposition of his thrusts. 

“Fuck,” Stiles groaned. 

Derek could feel his knot swelling, tugging at Stiles’ rim with every pass in and out of his body.

“I’m going to knot you up nice and tight.” Derek leaned down, his body covering Stiles, hunching his hips in and out slowly, more purposefully, until he could lodge his knot inside of Stiles. “I’m going to make sure you feel me for days,” he licked the skin of Stiles’ neck. 

“Tak, alfa,” Stiles whined, his head dropping back on the floor. Derek thrust in and out for as long as he could, before his knot has swollen so much that he was finally locked inside of the omega, filling him up. Derek groaned, accidentally biting down onto Stiles’ nipple, his hand letting go of Stiles’ cock. 

Stiles whimpered, shuffling himself over on his belly so he could fuck his erection into the blankets below him. Derek moved with Stiles, allowing him to get comfortable, and the new angle caused Derek’s knot to press up directly into Stiles’ prostate. He ground the hard bulb into Stiles’ body. 

“Oh god,” Stiles whimpered, grinding harder into the blankets. His mouth was hung open as he let out panting breaths, his hands fisted in the blankets.

The squeeze of Stiles’ ass was almost too tight, and Derek didn’t know how Stiles was able to take all of the fist sized knot. 

“So good, Stiles,” Derek keened, humping his hips against Stiles’ ass, his knot pressing relentlessly against Stiles’ prostate. “You take it so good. You’re so _tight_ , I can’t believe how good you are for me.”

Stiles whimpered in response, clenching his ass around Derek’s knot. 

Derek moved down to drape himself over Stiles’ back, bracing himself on his elbows. He fucked his hips as much as their connected bodies would allow, grinding filthily into Stiles body, his knot swelling larger and larger. 

Stiles squirmed wantonly, alternating between riding Derek’s knot and grinding his cock into the blankets. 

“Yes, Derek, so close,”

Derek couldn’t have stopped fucking Stiles if he tried to. His hips were moving of their own accord, and he felt his own orgasm close behind. 

He felt red bleed into his eyes, and his fangs were extended, just itching to give Stiles a claiming bite. But he knew that Stiles’ hadn’t agreed to that, hadn’t agreed to be Derek’s mate, so he tried is hardest to retract his fangs and remove the temptation. He buried his face in Stiles neck, inhaling Stiles’ scent. 

When the first jolt of his orgasm hit, Derek nearly whited out from the force of it. Knotting orgasms were always intense, but Derek had never been hit this strongly before. He keened, fighting the urge to howl, but instead took Stiles’ neck in between his human teeth, gripping onto his neck while the pleasure rolled through his body. 

He whimpered helplessly as he fucked himself as deep as his knot would allow, trying to get closer, deeper inside of Stiles. He came powerfully, a deep growl rumbling in his chest. 

“Jesus, _fuck_ , you’re so hot,” Stiles reached back, grabbing Derek’s hair and holding Derek’s mouth against his neck. Stiles fucked himself back into Derek, keeping the pressure of Derek’s knot on his prostate, grinding his hard cock in the blankets beneath him. 

“Tak! Tak!” he panted, before he broke off into a desperate whine, his back arching beneath Derek as he came all over the blankets. 

Derek’s arms gave out from under him, and he collapsed onto the omega’s body. They lie there, sweaty and panting, trying to recover from their climaxes. 

It took a few moments for Derek’s brain to come back online, but when it did, he eased them onto their sides, grabbing the edge of the blanket and pulling it over their bodies, covering them up as much as he could. 

Stiles’ chest was pink and scraped from where it was rubbing against the carpet, his nipples dribbling milk all over his chest. His hair was messy and he looked fucked out and sated. Derek couldn’t help but feel the swelling of his alpha ego, pleased that he was the one who did that to his mate. 

“I can’t feel my legs,” Stiles said, a small laugh in his voice. 

Derek kissed Stiles’ neck. 

“Stay here with me tonight,” the words slipped out before he could stop them. He kissed the back of Stiles’ neck to center himself. “If you want to,” he added.

Stiles turned around, looking over his shoulder at Derek. He smiled softly, his expression warm and his sent satisfied and happy. 

“Alright.”

Derek nuzzled the skin between Stiles’ hairline and his ear, smelling Stiles’ sweet scent and memorizing the subtle notes and the way he had the distinct smell of _them_. He only had Stiles for a night, so he had to make the best of it. 

They fell asleep there in front of the dying fire, Derek still tied to Stiles. 

 

*

Derek woke first, around thirty minutes later. His cock had deflated enough to pull out, so he slid out of Stiles’ hole, trying his best not to hurt him. Without Derek inside of him keeping him plugged, the mixture of slick and come began oozing out of his hole. Derek grabbed the towel from earlier to get the most of the mess. 

As he was wiping between his cheeks, Stiles woke up and groggily looked down to see what Derek was going. 

“Thank you,” his voice was thick with sleep. He spread his legs wider to give Derek a little more room to work. “You are so polite.”

Derek huffed a laugh. “What can I say? I’m a good host.”

He scooped Stiles up into his arms, carrying him down the hallway. 

“Do you want to stay in the spare room tonight, or do you want to sleep with me?”

“You,” Stiles gripped Derek tighter. “With you.”

Derek kissed the top of Stiles’ head, hiding his smile against hair. Stiles still smelled like his usual delicious self, but he was covered in Derek’s scent as well. Derek too could smell Stiles' scent all over him, and he allowed himself to get lost in the way they smelled together, when their scents were intermixed and they no longer smelled like one or the other, but they smelled like Them. 

Derek carried a sleeping Stiles into his bedroom, and laid him on his bed. Stiles woke up long enough to crawl under the covers, groggy and muttering something that Derek couldn’t understand. 

Before Stiles fell back asleep, Derek headed into the kitchen to grab another glass of water for the omega. 

When he returned to the bedside, waking Stiles up to make him drink, Stiles smirked at him, muttering,“Sillywolf,” but took the glass anyway, drinking nearly half of it in one go. Derek turned out the light and climbed onto the other side of the bed. As soon as he'd pulled the covers over himself, Stiles rolled over, wrapping his arm around Derek’s waist and resting his head on his chest. 

“Goodnight, Stiles,” Derek kissed Stiles' forehead.

“G’night,” Stiles said, before letting out a giant yawn. “I’m glad you finally called me.”

Derek huffed a laugh, reaching down to playfully pinch Stiles’ ass. He jolted back, and pinched Derek’s nipple in retaliation. 

Instead of listening to the traffic down below as he fell asleep, Derek tuned into the rhythm of Stiles breathing and his slowing heartbeat. And for the first time in a long time, Derek’s bed didn’t feel too big. 

 

*  
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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:**  
>  The only thing I can think of off the top of my head are very vague references to making Stiles "take it" and Derek telling Stiles he's going to "make it fit" which could sound a little ominous and threatening, but they're meant in the sexy way. But if anyone finds those phrases particularly triggering, you might want to use the 'find and replace' thingy to change those.
> 
>  **Warning for Chapter 7** : Somnophilia/dub-con: The next chapter features (for the most part, consensual) somnophilia. I know somnophilia is one of those kinks that some find really off-putting, so if that’s _really_ not your thing, you can skip over chapter 7 completely (It’s entirely pwp, so you’re not missing any plot/character development), and finish up with chapter 8. There will be a detailed warning in the end notes for chapter 7 to expand on the context in case you want to get a better idea about it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peaks inside sheepishly* 
> 
> Is anyone still here? Do you guys all hate me?
> 
> I know that “I’m sorry” doesn’t even _begin_ to cover it, but please believe me when I say that I really did not mean to go this long in between updates. Since this story is a shining example of how I am not responsible enough to post chapter updates in a timely manner, I will go back to posting things once I have them complete. Also, from now on, I will stop promising when I’ll have things up because all I ever do is make a liar out of myself. 
> 
>  ***Warnings: Please take note of the tags and check out the warnings before you start reading, because I’m doing something a little differently than I usually do consent-wise.*** Detailed somnophilia/dub-con/non-con explanation in the end notes. 
> 
>  
> 
> **If somnophilia is not your thing, you can skip to chapter 8. You won't miss anything, this chapter is entirely pwp.**
> 
>  
> 
> I have no beta, and all mistakes are totally my fault. I have about 5 minutes to post these before I have to leave for work. When I get out tonight, I'll give this another once over to clean up any missed mistakes.
> 
> I would like to give a special thanks to the lovely letusgofarfaraway and D who advised me on my Polish phrasing! Thank you so, so much! I deeply appreciate your help. <3 I included a translation of the Polish phrases in the end notes.
> 
> Enjoy!!!

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*

 

Derek had been in the middle of a particularly strange dream that he lived in a glass house with a bunch of ghosts, all of whom were wearing flannel bathrobes, when he was startled out of sleep by an obnoxious loud sound. 

His phone, which had been plugged in and charging on the bedside table, was buzzing loudly against the surface of the wood. Derek nearly knocked over the lamp in his haste to silence his phone before it woke Stiles. 

“Shit,” Derek muttered sleepily, his hand flopping onto nightstand, fumbling around until he was able to mute the sound. The screen was far too bright in the dark room and much too harsh against Derek’s own natural night vision, but he was able to make out the fact that it was nearly four in the morning. 

Even if Derek hadn’t have seen the name flash on the screen, he only knew one person inconsiderate enough to call someone up at this time of night. 

Peter. 

Derek unplugged his phone, covering the screen with his hand so it didn’t bother the omega sleeping beside him, and got out of bed, leaving the room so he could take the call in another room. Derek swiped to connect the call, as he unlocked the door to the terrace and slipped outside to take the call. 

“Peter,” Derek tried to keep the growl out of his voice, he really did. “Do you know what fucking time it is right now?” 

“Judging by the sound of your voice, it’s horribly early,” Peter replied, his tone light and completely unbothered at having woken Derek. In fact, he sounded much too awake at this time of night to have even been in New York. 

“Where are you?”

“Zürich.”

Derek’s eyebrows settled into a furrowed glare.

“Well, seeing as how the Swiss are known worldwide for mastering the art of watchmaking, I’m a little surprised you were unable to remember to check the time before you called. Or remember that time zones exist.” 

“Must have slipped my mind,” Peter continued right on, not acknowledging Derek’s statement. “I was calling to let you know I’ll be out of the office for a few days. Argent already knows I’m out of the country, but I told him if he needs anything emergently, you’ll be more than happy to take his call.”

“Fine.” Derek sighed, his patience to running dangerously thin. “Of course I’ll take the call, Peter.” It was his job, after all. “ A little heads up at a reasonable time of day would have been nice,” he yawned, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“He was visiting his daughter,” Peter said, randomly.

What? 

“Who?”

“Argent.” There was a rustling in the background, and it sounded like Peter was moving the phone to his other ear. “He was visiting his daughter. That’s why he hasn’t been calling as much. ”

“Okay,” Derek answered. As confused as the non sequitur left him, Derek was far too tired to ask what Peter had felt it important to share that tidbit of information.

“She lives in Chicago, and they don’t get to see each other often, but he took a few days to fly out there to visit with her. But now he’s back in San Francisco.”

“Peter,” Derek yawned, “I don’t care.” 

“Well I just thought you would want to know,” Peter snapped petulantly, obviously annoyed that Derek didn’t seem interested.

Derek rolled his eyes, “When will you be back?”

“The day after tomorrow. I’m just here for a quick meeting, I’ll be back on Monday.”

Meeting? Derek didn’t remember having any sort of Hale Enterprises business in Switzerland.

“I’ll keep you updates with any new developments.” Derek ran a hand through his hair, turning to head back inside. 

“This is why you’re my favorite nephew.”

“I’m your only nephew,” he deadpanned.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be my favorite, Derek. I’ll talk to you later.” Peter ended the call abruptly, not waiting for Derek to respond. 

Derek and headed back inside, cursing Peter for not texting him, or emailing him, or literally anything other than calling him at four in the goddamn morning.

Derek was grateful to see that the call hadn’t woken Stiles, and that he was still fast asleep in the bed, buried beneath Derek’s giant white duvet. He was snoring softly and his feet stuck out from beneath the edge of the duvet, his toes twitching absently every now and then. 

Derek stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, just watching the sleeping omega. 

It had been a long time since Derek had had anyone in his bed, and even longer since anyone had slept over. He didn’t realize how much he had missed the closeness of another body in the bed beside him. His apartment was nice, but it always felt so _empty_. 

Having Stiles here, it made it seem warm and inviting. More like a home. With Stiles here in the penthouse, Derek realized just how lonely he really had been. 

Stiles let out a deep snore that cut off in a comical little snort, and he shook his own head, rubbing it into the pillow. Derek huffed a laugh, biting his lip to muffle the sound. Stiles rolled over onto his back and squirmed around getting comfortable in the new position, scooting over into the space where Derek had been lying earlier. Derek smirked, his heart warming at the sight. 

As Stiles rolled over onto his back, the white duvet slipped further down his body, exposing his chest to the room. Stiles gracelessly flopped his arms up above his head, resting them above his head causing caused his perky breasts to be prominently displayed. 

In a way, it reminded Derek of that first night at Dolce, the night that he first laid eyes on Stiles, when he was spread out on that table purely for the alphas’ enjoyment. Seeing Stiles laying there so open and available with his tits _right fucking there_ had Derek chubbing up slightly as he took in the subtle fullness to them. 

Derek set his phone on the bedside table and moved toward the foot of the bed, eying the omega hungrily. He grabbed ahold of the base of the duvet, pulling it down Stiles’ body, to expose more of his creamy, flesh. 

As the duvet reached Stiles’ lower belly, the tip of his cock poked over the comforter, peeking into view.  
A low aroused growl rumbled in Derek’s chest, and he pulled the duvet down even further, exposing Stiles’ cock to the room. 

Stiles was more than half hard, his cock resting up the base of his belly, the flushed, rosy head contrasting deliciously against the pale skin of his stomach. Derek could feel the poke of his fangs against his gums, just itching to break free and nibble, bite and _claim_ all of that lovely skin that was being presented before him.

Derek’s eyes traveled up Stiles body, taking the smooth, mole-dotted skin of his chest. A tiny bead of milk was pearling on Stiles’ right nipple, sitting innocently atop his puffy tit. Derek wondered how full Stiles’ breasts were, seeing as how Stiles hadn’t expressed any milk since the Derek had nursed during their last fucking. That had been hours ago, and Derek wasn’t sure if that was something Stiles had to do routinely throughout the day or not, but his breasts looked like they were dangerously close to becoming uncomfortably full.

Derek let go of the duvet, climbing into the bed, and crawling on all fours up toward Stiles body to lie snugged up against his side.

Derek nuzzled his face against Stiles’ breast, rubbing the scruff of his beard along the smooth skin and inhaling the faint undertone of Stiles’ personal scent. He placed a soft kiss to the swell of his skin, sucking a faint mark on the plumped side of his breast. 

Derek adjusted his position on the bed so that he was lying on his side, and then he began to suck on the side of Stiles’ breast with more intent. He brought a hand up to Stiles’ chest, delicately cupping Stiles’ breast in his hand, bringing his thumb up to circle around Stiles’ nipple. 

Stiles moaned loudly and his body shifted against Derek, his legs stretching out and his hips shifting upward, searching for some kind of relief. 

Derek chuckled softly, kissing his skin one last time before he looked up to apologize to Stiles for waking him. He opened his mouth, about to comment on Stiles’ arousal, but was startled back into silence when he realized that Stiles was still asleep.

Derek looked down at Stiles’ cock again and back up to his sleeping face. He thought back to last night, what Stiles said to him on the couch. 

_"I would not mind if you did."_

Derek swallowed thickly, his cock taking even more of an interest. 

Derek wasn’t sure if doing something like that to Stiles would be crossing a line or not. Derek hadn’t _smelled_ any kind of lie or hear a skip in his heartbeat as he said it. It was almost as if Stiles was giving him permission. And, sure, Stiles had mentioned that it was something he enjoyed, but they hadn’t actually discussed doing it anytime soon. 

_**"I like it."** _

Derek reached down palming his own cock. It was almost painfully hard, and the thought of fucking a sleeping Stiles was turning him on way more than it he’d previously thought it would. 

He leaned back down and took Stiles’ breast back in his mouth, continuing to softly knead the plump flesh. He pinched at the nipple, bringing it to a peak, causing more milk to pearl at the tip and spill delicately down the side of his nipple. 

Derek leaned in and licked the milk off of Stiles’ nipple, a rumbling growl at the back of his throat. He pulled back and brought his hand to cup Stiles’ breast more firmly, giving pulsing squeezes and coaxing more milk to the surface. He leaned in and lapped at the milk as it slowly began to stream down the side of Stiles’ swollen tit. 

Stiles groaned again, shifting his hips more insistently this time. The scent of omega slick filled Derek’s nostrils, wrapping itself around him and awakening the wolf deep within. Derek’s eyes roamed Stiles’ body, drinking in the image. 

Stiles’ cock was fully hard and even rosier than before, the tip of his head slightly smeared with precome. Stiles idly humped his hips in the air, attempting to gain friction, something to ease the itch of arousal, and it was seeing Stiles’ sleepy desperation that brought Derek to a decision. 

“Poor thing,” Derek tsked sweetly. He reached a finger up, stroking Stiles’ plump bottom lip. “I’ll take care of you.”

He was going to do this.

With one last wet suck to Stiles’ nipple, Derek rolled away from his body and toward his bedside table. 

Derek pulled open the top drawer and dug around until he found his Fleshlight. It was one of his favorite toys, and since Derek had to travel so much for work, having something like his to bring with him was a life saver. 

Long nights in hotel rooms didn’t feel quite as lonely when he had something other than his hand to fuck into. 

Derek unscrewed the attachment that he’d had custom made to accommodate his knot, and behind him, he heard Stiles make a noise and felt the bed shift with movement. 

He glanced back at him, checking to see if the omega was finally awake. 

Stiles was, in fact, still asleep, and seemingly needier than he was earlier before. The room absolutely reeked of their combined arousal, and Derek knew it was leaking into Stiles’ subconscious while he slept soundly. 

Since Derek was the only one who was ever in his room, everything in here was covered in the alpha’s scent, and he was sure that sensory overload was playing a huge role in Stiles’ body reacting so wantonly. Stiles was whimpering softly, kneading the sheets with his long elegant fingers, humping up into the air softly. Precome was dripping down his shaft and his flushed, overfull tits had begun to leak in earnest. 

Derek swore under his breath at the sight and fumbled around in the drawer until he found the bottle of lube. He flipped the lid open one-handed and drizzled a generous amount into his palm. He rolled back over in the bed, toy in one hand, and wrapped his lubed up hand around Stiles’ erection. Stiles’ body reacted instinctually to Derek’s wet grip, and Stiles’ lips parted and he began sleepily fucking up into Derek’s hand, sighing contentedly, everything about him smelling _satisfied_.

“There you go,” Derek cooed hotly, the faintest traces of a growl in his chest, as he slowly stroked up and down the omega’s cock. “I know what you need.”

He spent time playing with Stiles’ cock, making sure it was liberally coated with lube. On an upstroke, Derek wrapped his hand around the head of Stiles’ dick, softly smearing the precome around the sensitive head and stroking his slit. 

Derek teased Stiles, alternating with light and firmer sensations on his dick, all the while leaning down every now and then to take lazy pulls from Stiles’ leaky tits. The more aroused the little omega got, the more milk he’d produce. 

Eventually, Derek grabbed the Fleshlight from where it lay on the bed, and held it upright while he drizzle more lube inside of the toy. He set the bottle on the nightstand, and gripped Stiles firmly in his hand while he fed the omega’s erection inside of the opening of the toy. 

Feeling the tight sensation around his cock, instinctually Stiles’ fucked upward, burying himself further inside of the wet, heat enveloping his prick. He let out a delicate, breathy whimper that went straight to Derek’s cock, causing him to growl as he popped his fangs, a blurt of precome dribbling out of his flushed head.

Adjusting himself on the bed, Derek used one hand to hold the Fleshlight on Stiles’ cock while the other massaged Stiles’ breast. When more milk made its way out, Derek leaned in and latched onto the tit, sucking firmly. His hand kept stimulating Stiles’ breast, softly stroking the smooth skin of the plump breast, squeezing every now and then to encourage more let down of the warm, sweet milk. 

Stiles’ mouth fell open and he moaned loudly, fucking up into the Fleshlight with adorable little thrusts, pushing his way inside and chasing the hot, tight grip around his prick. Derek held the toy firmly, sliding it down his cock in opposition to Stiles’ thrusts, making sure to give the little omega a good rhythm to fuck up into. 

Mouth still latched to Stiles’ tit, Derek swirled his tongue around the nipple in his mouth, nibbling on the sensitive bud before switching back to strong, sucking pulls. Stiles let out a breathy whine and started to whimper, his thighs splaying open and hips jerking upward fucking inside of the tight squeeze of the toy. 

Derek chuckled softly, stroking the side of Stiles’ breast with the knuckle of his finger. The thick scent of Stiles’ slick was heavy in the air, wrapping itself around Derek’s senses, hypnotizing him.

Derek pulled off of Stiles’ plump tit and sat up. He removed the Fleshlight from Stiles’ cock all together, taking away all sensation and leaving his erection slicked up with lube and precome, sticking up obscenely. Stiles let out another whimper, this one a little more pained than the others, and he thrust his hips up, eager to chase the friction that had gone away so suddenly. 

Derek crawled down the bed and sat on his haunches in the space between Stiles’ splayed legs. He pushed Stiles’ legs open wider, exposing his hole, taking in a few minutes to drink in the sight of the horny little omega, eager and open and vulnerable.

His balls were high and tight, sitting at the base of his cock, twitching every now and then and so eager to come. The tight furl of his hole fluttered delicately and with each opening wink of his little rosebud, a shiny, trail of slick would drool out obscenely. 

There was a pool beneath Stiles’ ass where he had been leaking slick into Derek’s sheets, the sheen of it smearing between Stiles’ cheeks and glistening messily on the skin on his thighs. Derek spread Stiles’ legs open wider, inhaling the aroma of the little omegas arousal.

“So perfect for me,” he growled dangerously low. 

He reached forward with one hand, his finger gathering up a trail of slick. He brought it to his nose, inhaling the potent smell of pheromones and _want_.

Growling, Derek arranged Stiles’ legs so that they were splayed as wide as they could go, resting just this side of uncomfortable. Stiles’ hole stretched open a little with the new position, opening up to Derek and allowing more slick to ooze out. Mixed in with Stiles’ own clear, viscous slick, were white streaks of Derek’s come, left over from when he had pumped the omega full during their last fucking. 

The sight made Derek even harder and he reached down to his own dripping erection, teasing his head with his fingers, and pumping his shaft once or twice.

Derek reached in and circled the stretched opening of the omega’s hole with the tip of his finger, petting it lovingly.

“Such a sweet little hole, Stiles.” Derek delicately shifted his finger inside of Stiles’ body, gently petting him on the inside. 

Stiles clenched beneath him, his hold fluttering around Derek’s finger as if he was trying to coax it further into his body to touch the spot that needed the most attention. 

“You poor little thing,” Derek cooed. “You just _need_ something inside of you, don’t you? You just feel so empty.”

Derek bent over to bury his face in the omega’s hole, inhaling the fragrance of their combined scents. Derek licked his flattened tongue over the hole, collecting as much of the nectar on his tongue as he could. 

Above him, Stiles moaned again, fucking up weakly into the air. His head thrashed from side to side on the pillow, his hair all mussed up and messy against the white of the pillow case. His brows were furrowed in frustrated arousal, his lips in a soft pout. His breasts were leaking steadily, dripping down the side of his chest and dripping into the sheets. 

His hole fluttered again around Derek’s finger, and a thick blob of slick blurted out between the skin of his rim and Derek’s digit. Derek leaned in again to lap at the drop of slick, licking up the thick liquid.

Stiles pushed his ass back onto Derek’s face, whimpering sleepily, his hips shifting, desperately seeking some sort of friction.

Derek took pity on the poor omega and finally brought the Fleshlight back down onto Stiles’ erection, jacking his cock much more slowly than before. Derek knew the speed was too slow to provide any real relief, but just enough to keep Stiles from aching too much. At Derek’s touch, Stiles let out a soft sigh of relief, his hips twitching upward, his hole winking and some of the tightness leaving his shoulders. 

“Is this better, baby?” Derek leaned over Stiles’ sleeping body, dragging his tongue through the milky mess on Stiles chest, leaning over to suck on his left breast again. Stiles sighed in relief, grinding upward into the Fleshlight.

The length of Derek’s erection was rubbing up and down between Stiles’ cheeks, cradled between the two fleshy globes. Derek moved softly, teasing himself, using Stiles’ slick to smooth the way as he ground against his body. 

While he rutted against the sleeping omega, Derek latched on to one of Stiles’ tits, pumping the Fleshlight a little quicker and building up a nice solid rhythm. 

Stiles was producing so much slick, that it was soaking Derek’s sheets. It was matted in the coarse hair of Derek’s pubic hair and tangling in the hair on his upper thighs. He leaned pulled off of Stiles’ tit to look down at the mess between his legs. 

“Imagine how much money you would make if you started bottling _this_ and selling it,” Derek chuckled softly. 

He moved his cock away from Stiles’ crack, watching as more slick drooled out from the abused hole. 

“You could get you a special bench, keep your legs tied down, hole stretched open and spend all day on your back while alphas drink from your hole, sucking out _this_ sweet cream. Get their tongues and fingers in you. You could keep your plump little tits in suction cups and just collect all of that milk to drink later.”

Derek leaned back again, looking at Stiles’ hole and petting at it gently. Stiles’ body writhed against the fingers, squirming to get them inside of his body. 

“Oh, baby, do you need something inside of you?” Derek cooed sympathetically. “Do you need a cock in you to make you feel better?”

Derek collected more of the slick that was drooling out of Stiles and jacked his own cock with it. He wished he had his phone so he could take pictures of this, Stiles’ so open and vulnerable and so needy just for him. 

Derek rearranged the sleeping omega’s legs, draping them so that they lay over his own bent thighs. The head of Derek’s cock bumped up against Stiles’ hole, his fat head looking almost too big to fit inside. 

Stiles whined as Derek’s cock made contact with his entrance, the omega’s own cock drooling precome down his hard shaft, and his hole sucking at Derek’s head in a gentle kiss, trying to coax it inside of his body. 

“Easy, little one, easy,” he shushed the feverish omega. “I’ll make you feel better.”

Derek rubbed his head over Stiles’ hole, circling the entrance, before pushing inside the tight, hot channel. 

Stiles arched his back, his breasts swaying with the movement, milk dripping out and sliding down the side of his chest. He keened wantonly and pushed himself back onto Derek’s dick. Derek focused himself on pushing into the omega’s soaked hole as slowly as he could, giving him a chance to adjust to Derek’s girth. 

When Derek bottomed out, he let out a loud satisfied growl, his balls nestled up against the base of Stiles’ ass. 

Derek shivered as he felt his shift come over him, slipping seamlessly into beta. He panted hotly, trying to clear his head from the lust that was clouding his mind, the pure instinct that was telling him to _take, mark, claim_. 

Derek shifted his hips back, sliding his cock out of Stiles until only his head was inside while at the same time sliding the Fleshlight off of the omega’s erection. He brought it to his mouth to spit inside of it a few times, mixing with the lube and Stiles’ precome, before he brought it back to Stiles’ cock. He slid the toy down Stiles’ dick achingly slow, while pushing back inside the omega, filling him up, and angling his hips just so, so that he dragged along Stiles’ prostate as he slid deep inside. 

At this, Stiles’ cried out brokenly, his hips stuttering up into the toy, as he woke suddenly, his eyes blinking open and looking around the room. 

“Derek?” he asked confusedly, looked down at his waist to see what was going on. 

For half a second, Derek was a little nervous about how Stiles would react. Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Stiles surprised him by giving a satisfied, sleepy smile, and laying back into the pillows.

“Yes,” he groaned, stretching his arms above his head, and rolling his hips filthily and pushing back farther onto Derek’s dick.

Stiles reached down and took the Fleshlight into his hand and began pumping it on his cock.

“Więcej proszę,” he drawled with a sleep thickened voice. He bit his plushy lower lip and whined deep in his throat. “Potrzebuję więcej.” He winked up at Derek playfully.

And while Derek wasn’t sure what Stiles had said to him, he seemed to be urging him on. Derek pulled out slowly once again, before sliding back inside achingly slow and scraping along Stiles’ prostate. Stiles’ eyes slipped shut and he moaned loudly. 

Derek shifted his position until he could lean over Stiles’ upper body, closer to his leaking breast. He reached out his tongue, licking a thick stripe up his chest, collecting as much milk as he could before it dripped off of Stiles’ body and onto the bed. 

Stiles opened his eyes and smiled sweetly up at Derek. Stiles lifted his head up from the pillow and Derek brought his mouth to Stiles’, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Derek could feel Stiles’ hand bumping against his abs as the the omega stroked the Fleshlight up and down his cock. 

Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s back, hooking his ankles together and keeping the alpha close to his body.

“Moje cycki są obolałe, Alfa.” Stiles’ voice was breathy with arousal. He licked into Derek’s mouth before tangling the fingers of his hand in Derek’s hair, “Napij się ze mnie.” 

He tightened his grip in Derek’s hair, and guided his head down to his the achy, swollen breast that Derek had not yet drank from. 

Derek latched on immediately, sucking greedily on the tit. He began fucking into Stiles rhythmically. Stiles let go of Derek’s head momentarily to grab the pillow from Derek’s side of the bed, and shove it underneath his body, giving his back a generous arch, pushing his tits upward for Derek’s feeding pleasure. 

Derek growled again, pulling lack to lap at the tit and kiss at the sensitive flesh. 

“Fuck, Stiles.” He groaned circling his hips. Stiles clenched around Derek’s cock, gripping him tighter. 

“Więcej!” Stiles panted. He shook his head against the pillows desperate with desire. “More, Derek, please!”

Derek leaned in and hungrily took Stiles breast back into his mouth, sucking firmly. The warm milk sprayed hotly into his mouth, the spray almost too much for Derek to take in all at once. It was dripping down his chin, into his beard, back onto Stiles. 

The two of them were a complete mess. There was precome, slick, sweat, milk and drool everywhere. Derek was never getting rid of these sheets every again. He wanted to keep them forever and bask in the scent of their fucking for the rest of his life. 

With his back hunched, he fucked into Stiles harder, more animal than man, his large, heavy balls slapping against Stiles’ ass. Stiles was panting and whimpering, egging Derek on in a tongue that Derek couldn’t understand, but could listen to all day.

He felt the tell-tale tightening in the base of his cock, the pressure of his knot eager to pop inside of something hot and tight. 

Derek let go of Stiles’ tit, a trail of saliva stringing from Stiles’ milky nipple to Derek’s red lips. 

“Stiles,” he grunted, breathless against the force of his own thrusting, “God, Stiles, my knot.” He nuzzled his beard against Stiles’ chest, kissing and licking aimlessly. “Can I?” He asked desperately. 

“Tak!” Stiles cried out. “Yes, Derek, fuck!” He jerked the Fleshlight faster, “Zwiąrz mnie. Come inside of me, fill me up.” 

Derek latched onto his breast again, sucking vigorously. 

He balanced himself on one elbow and brought his other hand up to fondle Stiles’ other breast. He palmed it roughly, pinching at the irritated, over-sensitive teat and tugging slightly. Stiles screamed out and squeezed his ass. 

“Close!” He panted harshly fucking the Fleshlight and screwing his eyes tightly shut. “Don’t stop, I _need_ this,” he said pleadingly. 

Derek felt his knot swelling and he growled gutturally, his claws breaking through his skin. “Fuck!”

His orgasm shot through him, burning his inside like fire in his veins, consuming him whole. 

Derek fucked into Stiles, mindless and rough. He bit down on the tender breast in his mouth, sucking desperately at the milk that came gushing out. His other hand was drenched in milk that was flowing from Stiles breast.

Derek squeezed Stiles’ milky tit as he humped into him. His knot caught on Stiles’ rim with every thrust, pulling and tugging mercilessly at his hole until finally it was locked inside and couldn’t be fucked out. 

Derek ground his knot into Stiles’ tight passage, nuzzling his hips against Stiles and shuddering with each ripple of orgasm that radiated through him, filling the omega beneath him with his come. 

Stiles screamed out, speeding up his strokes with the Fleshlight. His body shuddered and his mouth dropped open. He alternated between fucking up into the toy and grinding back onto Derek’s knot, milking Derek’s cock as he came. 

“O mój Boże!”

Derek nursed at Stiles breasts absently, soothing himself as Stiles came down from the intensity of his orgasm. Stiles’ pained whimpers tapered off, and his body sagged against the bed. He was panting harshly, trying to catch his breath, as he ran a hand through his sweaty hair.

“Fuck,” he said softly. He smiled lazily, come drunk and satiated. “That was one hell of a ‘good morning.’” 

Derek’s laugh was muffled with Stiles’ breast in his mouth, and he pulled off so he could smile up at the beautiful omega splayed beneath him. 

Stiles pulled the Fleshlight off of his softening cock, and set in on the bed next to the two of them. 

“Your knot is so big,” his voice was scratchy from screaming.

Derek cringed for a moment. “Is it too much?”

“No, it is not uncomfortable,” Stiles smiled softly, his eyes glittering. “It is good. I like being so full with you.”

Derek leaned up and captured Stiles swollen lips in a kiss. 

Stiles’ eyes fluttered shut and he moaned against Derek’s lips. Derek tightened an arm around Stiles’ back, tightening the omega’s body to his own, and rolled over onto his back. His knot pulling on Stiles’ rim from the inside. 

Stiles draped himself over Derek’s body, moaning contentedly. He brought his legs up to straddle Derek’s hips. Derek ran his hands along the skin of his back, dipping his fingers down to pet Stiles’ rim. He could feel how tightly the skin was stretched, and he knew that once the haze of arousal wore off, Stiles was going to be feeling the ache for days. 

“When do you work next?” Derek nuzzled the skin of Stiles’ neck, kissing lightly.

Stiles hummed softly at the affectionate gesture. “Friday.”

Shit. That was tomorrow. Derek knew that Stiles wouldn’t be healed by then.

“You’re going to be pretty sore, baby.” He brought his hand to Stiles’ ass cheek to massage the fleshy globe. “Are you just working the table tomorrow or are you open for extra services?”

“I am working tables tomorrow. But I can arrange to have the night off from other services.” He looked up at Derek. “Kira owes to me a favor. Perhaps she will switch with me and I can work the bar instead.”

Derek assumed Kira was the omega who worked the bar alongside Scott.

“Is that going to affect how much money you make?”

Stiles shook his head, grinning smugly. “I make lots of money in every zone I work.”

Derek chucked softly. With a body like Stiles’, he didn’t doubt that he got a lot of attention at work.

“When I work tables,” Stiles explained, “I only take a few a night because the customers like to take their time, enjoy their tasting, and indulge themselves. It is a treat for them. So they take longer with it. But it costs more for table services, even without extras.”

He brought a hand up to Derek’s face, his fingers scratching Derek’s chin and combing through his beard. 

“At the bar, it does not cost as much for a taste, but I get many more customers than when I am on the tables.”

Derek thought that made sense. But, was curious about which zone Stiles _preferred_ working, and he secretly wondered if maybe Stiles would ever consider working _just_ the bar. 

He rid his mind of the thought just as soon as it popped in. 

Stiles was not _his_ omega. They were sharing each other’s time and pleasuring each other’s bodies, but Stiles was not obligated to change his profession just because Derek was possessive. And even though they’d admitted to each other that they wanted to keep seeing each other, that didn’t mean that they were mates. 

“I bet it also gives you more of a chance to socialize with the customers,” he said, trying to show Stiles that he was comfortable with his job at the bar, even though his wolf wanted anything but sharing Stiles with others. 

Stiles let out a soft laugh, “Yes, staying quiet is not naturally how I am.”

While they waited for Derek’s knot to go down, they chatted about Derek’s work, about Dolce, about baseball, and finally, Derek’s knot had gone down enough to allow him to slip out of Stiles. He arranged Stiles on the bed so he was lying on his stomach. Derek reached down and parted his cheeks to check his hole. 

Stiles’ hole was puffy and inflamed the rim obviously sore and stretched from the size of Derek’s knot.  
Derek hissed in sympathy. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then you can sleep some more.”

*

Stiles was limping slightly as Derek led him to his large en suite bathroom. 

Even though Stiles was trying to hide the discomfort, Derek could hear the hitch in his breathing with each step. While the most primal part of his brain preened at the fact that he’d left his mark on his mate, the more rational part of himself was slightly embarrassed at his over enthusiasm, and he was determined to make up for Stiles’ discomfort.

Derek turned on the shower, letting the water warm up and allow the steam to fill the shower cubicle before he guided Stiles inside. 

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured into Stiles’ skin as he kissed the marks he’d left along the omega’s neck. 

Stiles nodded wordlessly, pulling Derek’s face upward so that he could kiss him properly.

“Take care of me, alfa,” Stiles smiled, placing one more kiss to Derek’s lips. 

Derek used a wash cloth to clean Stiles’ body, taking care to tread gently over the bites and bruises he’d so carelessly left. He cringed as he saw all of the marks he’d left on Stiles. He soaped up Stiles’ skin and kissed each of the bruises and bite marks as he passed them, whispering apologies into Stiles’ skin. 

“You’re being dramatic again, alfa,” Stiles grinned softly as he threaded his fingers through Derek’s hair. Derek growled playfully and without barb, and Stiles just winked, allowing Derek to continue fawning over him.

He turned Stiles around until he was leaning against the tile of the shower walls, pushing his ass slightly outward. Derek sunk to his knees and used the detachable shower head to clean out Stiles’ hole, working his fingers inside as gently as he could to scrape out the come and excess slick. 

Stiles’ rim was red and looked obviously sore, and Derek whimpered slightly when he brought his fingers to the omega’s sensitive skin.

“Stop saying you’re sorry.” Stiles reached back to nudge Derek’s shoulder playfully, “I wanted it.” Derek blushed, going back to his task.

Once out of the shower, Derek used the softest towels he could find to dry Stiles off. He led the omega over to the counter and Derek rubbed lotion all over Stiles’ skin, massaging it into the smooth flesh. 

Stiles allowed Derek to reposition him as he needed to make sure he got every inch, and letting Derek take control and pamper him. While Stiles leaned against the counter, he alternated between watching Derek through the mirror, and looking at his own reflection and fiddling with his hair.

“Can you put your knee up on the counter?” Derek stroked the skin on the back of Stiles’ calf.

Stiles nodded and lifted his leg so that his bent knee was resting on the counter, his ass cheeks parted and his hole exposed to Derek.

Derek hummed in sympathy as he saw how irritated he looked. He placed a kiss to Stiles’ puffy, abused hole. He gathered some of the cream on his fingers and gently massaged Stile’s rim. Stiles squirmed in discomfort every now and then, so Derek made sure to take the time to massage the delicate skin as gently as he could, soothing the sting of being stretched open too wide.

“That feels nice.” Stiles murmured dazedly. He leaned his elbows on the counter slumping forward and spreading his legs a little wider for the alpha, giving him easier access.

Derek hummed softly in response, working his fingers inside gently. 

“Do they take good care of you at the bar?” Derek’s voice held some grit to it, unable to help but be aroused at the position Stiles was in in front of him.

Stiles nodded. “There’s a room in the back specifically with aftercare attendants. After we work a table, we go in and they clean us off, clean out our holes, and put lotion on us.” 

It was an offhanded comment, said so casually, and Derek was sure Stiles’ didn’t mean for that to sound as erotic as it did, but he couldn’t help the second wind of arousal that shuddered through him as he had a flash of an image of dozens of naked omegas, sprawled out and come drunk, being fingered and massaged with lotion.

“Then, there is a lounge where we rest and we eat and drink a little something, and move around to loosen up our muscles or to take a nap.” Stiles stood upright, looking over his shoulder down at Derek.

“It’s nice to know you’re being taken care of,” Derek murmured, clearing his throat and trying to focus his thoughts.

Stiles nodded. “They look out for us. I am very well cared for.”

“How do you get home at night after your shifts?”

Derek knew the club stayed open well into the night. He wasn’t sure if Stiles drove or if he walked home afterwards, but either way, at that time of night it could hardly be safe. He felt his claws poke against the inside of his fingertips as he the fierce protectiveness washed over him.

What if something happened to Stiles on his way home from the bar? Or what if a customer-- some greedy alpha who wanted more than he paid for-- was waiting outside of the bar until the omegas were outside the safety of Dolce’s walls?

“You don’t walk home after that, do you?” 

Once Derek got home from the office, Greenberg was technically off-duty. He could hire someone else though, specifically to take Stiles to and from work. That way, Derek would know for sure that Stiles was alright and he wouldn’t be in danger.

And perhaps a bodyguard. To make sure no one tried anything while he was at the bar.

“Nope. Scott and Kira live in the same neighborhood as me, so we drive together,” Stiles’ response broke Derek out of his thoughts. 

Derek rolled his eyes in exasperation at how irrational his train of thought had been. How was it that this omega had the power to reduce Derek to some sort of bumbling mess?

Consciously, he knew that they weren’t _actually_ mates, but his body—his _wolf_ \-- behaved as if taking care of Stiles, protecting Stiles, was Derek’s sole purpose in life.

As much as Derek didn’t care for Scott, he at least took comfort in the notion that Stiles had another alpha who could look out for him. Maybe if things between he and Stiles progressed into a relationship, he would ask him if he wanted Derek to hire someone.

Derek spent a few more minutes tending to Stiles’ hole before he let him bring his leg down and turn around.

“Let me see your cock, Stiles,” he murmured, reaching out to squeeze more lotion to his palm. 

Stiles turned around, looking up at the alpha. He cocked his head slightly to the side, an unconscious position of submission, and Derek swallowed thickly as his eyes followed the trail of freckles up the pale column of his neck. Stiles winked, smirking playfully at Derek’s reaction to his body. 

Derek cleared his throat, focusing himself and finally took Stiles’ prick in his hand. The skin was only a little slightly red from the friction of the sex toy, but Derek was nothing if not thorough. 

“Did I use enough lube?” He glanced up, leaning down to kiss the omega’s lips. 

Stiles nodded. “It was good.” He nibbled at Derek’s bottom lip, his cock giving and interested twitch as Derek rubbed lotion into his skin. “Maybe next time warming lube?”

“Was it cold?” he asked instead.

“A little.”

“I’ll make a note of it.” Derek tried to keep from howling in victory at the thought of next time with Stiles.

Derek smoothed Arnica cream on the marks on Stiles’ neck. Thankfully he hadn’t broken the skin, but there were faint bruises from sucking too hard. 

Stiles’ breasts were another story entirely. Stiles’ breasts were covered in love bites which had already begun to purple. In a few areas, Derek actually had broken the skin when he had gotten too careless in his fucking. The skin was slightly irritated with beard burn, and Derek cursed internally as he spread lotion over the bruised, bitten flesh. 

“I’m sorry” he said, kissing his breasts again. He licked softly at the chafed, reddened nipples.

Stiles hummed warmly, not responding, but reaching out to run his fingers through Derek’s hair. Derek could smell the affection rolling off of him in waves and he secretly wished this moment would last forever.

Once Derek was satisfied with how Stiles had been tended to, they made their way back into the bedroom. He gave Stiles a pair of fluffy, oversized sweat pants to wear and an old t-shirt. 

Derek left Stiles to change while he went to the kitchen to get some water for the both of them. He came back in to find Stiles smelling the shirt. 

He blushed when he caught Derek looking, shrugging sheepishly, "It smells like you.” 

Derek made Stiles drink some of the water and gave him a few bites of food, and he herded him back into the bed. He pulled the soiled sheet off the bed, but covered the two of them in the duvet which thankfully had escaped the same fate. 

“It’s still early,” Derek yawned, crawling beneath the covers and sidling up to Stiles’ body. It was barely six in the morning, and Derek knew he wasn’t ready to be up yet. “We can go back to sleep and we’ll have a big breakfast once we wake up for real.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Stiles smiled warmly, kissing Derek and snuggling further into his embrace. 

Stiles took his place at Derek’s side, and Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ body, holding him close as he drifted off to sleep. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End notes:  
> 1\. **SOMNOPHILIA/NON-CON/DUB-CON** : Okay, so this chapter features somnophilia. Historically, I’ve been extremely careful to include verbal (or at least very obviously hinted at) consent, but for this chapter I couldn’t figure out a way to work in explicit consent. The context of this scene is following a night of passionate sex between the two –not that that means that consent for one sexual encounter automatically applies to all future sexual encounters irl, because it absolutely does not— and Derek wakes Stiles up with morning sex. **I would like to stress that the setting is not traumatic or harmful to Stiles** , but it is still nonconsensual because he does not give Derek the okay to start having sex with him. Stiles very much likes it (when he wakes up) and urges Derek to continue. **I have tagged it as dub/con non/con because Stiles does not explicitly verbally consent to sex with Derek.** I tried to imply consent and hint around at it, and if you accept my weak attempts at foreshadowing and hazy permission in the last chapter, then at the very least it’s dub-con. If that is something that makes you uncomfortable or is triggering for you, I completely understand. Chapter 7 is complete pwp, so you can totally skip it if you want. You’re not missing any plot/character development, it’s just the two of them going at it and some aftercare. **Please be safe and take care of yourself. Your safety and mental wellbeing means way more to me than kudos.**
> 
> 2\. **XENOPHILIA** : If you’ve read the somnophilia warning and you’re still on board with the story, I have one more warning, just in case it’s not your thing. During the aforementioned morning sex, Derek shifts into beta while they’re having sex. If that’s not your thing, you can skip the chapter and wrap it up with chapter 8.
> 
> 3\. **BAD POLISH** : I don’t speak Polish. At all. Not even a little bit. All of the Polish in this fic is from Google translate, so who knows how close to correct it is (GT can be really good with literal translation, but not colloquial interpretations/slang). If there are any Polish speakers who know a better way to say what I’m trying to say, let me know in the comments so I can fix it.
> 
> So, that covers it for the warnings!
> 
>  **Polish Phrases I used:**  
>  alfa- alpha  
> Więcej proszę – More please  
> Potrzebuję więcej- I need more  
> Moje cycki są obolałe, Alfa – My tits are sore, Alpha  
> Napij się ode mnie – Drink from me  
> Więcej – more  
> Tak! - Yes!  
> Zwiąrz mnie – loosely translated to, “knot me”  
> O mój Boże! – Oh my God!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is the end!
> 
> Man oh man, the way you guys loved this story brought tears to my eyes. Thanks for enjoying all the weird, kinky shit that comes out of my head! 
> 
> Thank you so much for putting up with me and my horrible updating :D I love each and everyone of you!
> 
> (No beta, all mistakes are mine. )
> 
> I am nearly 3 months behind on comments, and I promise I will sit my ass down and get to each and every one of you who were so kind to show me love!!

*  
*  
*

 

The two slept for a few more hours in Derek’s giant, luxurious bed, their bodies tangled up in one another.

Derek was a habitual early riser due to his busy working schedule, and he eventually dragged himself out of bed (after placing a kiss to Stiles’ temple) and headed out into the apartment.

Derek placed a call to one of his favorite breakfast places in the neighborhood and ordered breakfast to be delivered for the two of them. He wasn’t sure what Stiles usually ate for breakfast, so he just settled on the largest spread with the most variety. Whatever Stiles didn’t eat, Derek could finish later. A werewolf’s metabolism didn’t allow leftovers to hang around for long. 

Derek knew he had at least half an hour to kill before breakfast arrived, so he decided to clean up the living room from the previous night’s activities. 

_When Harry Met Sally_ was on TV, and Derek watched it at a low volume, reciting the lines along with the characters, as he shuffled the furniture back into place, washed dishes and folded the blankets so he could have them laundered later. Derek tried his best to stay as quiet as he could, trying his best not to wake Stiles with the noise.

(Even though by now Derek was well aware how heavy of a sleeper Stiles actually was, he still wanted to make sure Stiles was able to rest as much as he could.)

Derek had just finished checking his work email when he got a call from the lobby that someone from the restaurant was on their way up to his floor. 

Derek figured they should probably eat at the table this time. He almost felt bad that Stiles hadn’t had a full meal since he’d been in the penthouse, and Derek knew if he tried to serve Stiles breakfast in bed, the morning would take a whole other direction and poor Stiles still wouldn’t end up with eating actual food. 

Derek met the delivery girl at the, tipping her generously, and shut the front door behind him with his foot as he headed into the dining room. He arranged everything on the dining room table in a luxurious spread, trying to make it look welcoming and inviting for his guest, hoping he’d be pleased with how well Derek was able to provide for him. 

For a second, he wondered if maybe this was a bit too much of an ostentatious display that would turn Stiles’ off. Or perhaps Stiles’ would have preferred to go out for breakfast instead. What if Stiles didn’t even want to stay for breakfast? What if he’d just rather go back home?

Before Derek could really let the anxious thoughts take over, he the sound of his bedroom door opening and the faint rhythmic beat of Stiles’ heart. Derek set the last container down on the table, taking a breath to steel himself, and turned around to face the omega. 

Stiles padded barefoot down the hallway completely shirtless, Derek’s sweat pants riding dangerously low on his hips, into the main living area of the penthouse. 

He had sleep in his eyes, his hair was sticking up in every which direction, and his mouth was open in a giant yawn. He looked adorably disheveled and much less glamorous than he did on a shift for Dolce, but Derek knew he could spend the rest of his life waking up to this version of Stiles. 

The sleepy omega walked into the living room, scratching his stomach as he looked around. When his eyes landed on Derek at the entrance to the dining room, his eyes lit up and a gorgeous smile bloomed on his face. 

As he changed his course and headed toward the living room, Derek noticed there was a slight hitch in his step, no doubt a result of how thoroughly he’d been fucked in the past 12 hours. Stiles walked directly over to Derek and wrapped his arms around his waist in an intimate embrace, nuzzling his face into Derek’s neck. Derek didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around the sleepy omega, kissing his forehead and mumbling, “Good morning.” 

“Kawa,” Stiles croaked groggily, his neck pressed against the warm skin of Derek’s neck. “I smell coffee.”

“That’s because there is coffee.” Derek said, chuckling softly. 

Derek held Stiles for several moments, rubbing his back while Stiles woke up a little more. Eventually, Stiles pulled back and looked up at Derek with a lazy grin, “Good morning.”

There were a few flecks of dried milk around Stiles’ left nipple and a faint trail of dried milk where he had leaked earlier in his sleep. There was a small fresh droplet of milk pearling at the tip of his right nipple and Derek brought his hand to Stiles’ breast, swiping at small pearl of milk with his thumb and sucking the digit into his mouth.

Stiles rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide his shy smile. 

Derek grinned, pulling his thumb out of his mouth. “Hungry?”

“ _Starving_ ,” Stiles stood up on the balls of his feet, kissing Derek softly on the lips, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck.

“C’mere,” Derek pulled away from Stiles, and Stiles took Derek’s hand in his, entwining their fingers so Derek couldn’t go too far. 

“Breakfast is served.” Derek gestured to the table and the elaborate spread of breakfast foods, and looked at Stiles over his shoulder. 

“Impressive,” Stiles grinned, heading for a chair. 

“Did you want to get dressed first?” Not that Derek would have cared if Stiles changed, but he thought he should at least throw it out there as an option.

“What’s wrong, don’t like the view?” Stiles winked playfully. 

“I just want you to be comfortable, that’s all,” Derek blushed, ducking his head a little bit. 

He pulled out Stiles’ seat, pressing a kiss to the side of Stiles’ neck as he pushed the chair back into the table after he’d sat. Derek grabbed some juice for the table and poured the two of them a steaming hot cup of coffee, before joining Stiles at the table.

 

*

As they ate the large breakfast, Stiles chatted excitedly, gesticulating animatedly, his eyes with excitement the entire time he rambled on.

All of his nerves from yesterday seemed to have disappeared and Derek knew that _this_ was the real Stiles. Not the dolled up omega from the club who laid there silently while alphas nursed from his chest. And after hearing Stiles talk so much for the past 12 hours, Derek was impressed that Stiles was able to remain silent for such a long stretch of time while he was working. 

Stiles went on and on, talking about a musical he wanted to see on Broadway, the most recent movies he and Scott had seen together, funny stories about culture shock after he first arrived in New York from Wrocław. He even shared some stories about people from work (carefully not to give out their names), and giving Derek a peak behind the curtain that was Dolce. Stiles had a lot of interesting things to say, and Derek sat back and listened to all of it, enjoying every second of it. 

There was something so natural about the way they interacted together. Everything was just so effortless, and Derek knew that the more time he spent around Stiles, the harder he was going to end up falling for him. 

In the short time that he had known Stiles, Derek had opened so much of himself, and shared so much of who he was. It had been a long time since Derek had been in a relationship, and nearly as long since he had _wanted_ to be in one. But being wrapped up in the penthouse with Stiles, away from all the distractions of Derek’s real life, it was easy to feel as though they were the only two in the world.

Derek knew that things could really end only one of two ways: Either Derek would give him the claiming bite, and they’d end up together. Or, they would go their own separate ways, and Derek would be left brokenhearted.

*

They’d finished breakfast, and had ended up back on Derek’s couch again, fooling around languidly. Derek knotted Stiles one more time, filling him up tightly and making the omega smell like him from the inside out. 

While they lie tied together, Derek placed lazy, fucked out kisses on Stiles’ collar bone. Derek nursed from Stiles one last time, giving the omega a slow and sensual hand job and bringing him off a second time. Stiles combed his fingers through Derek’s hair, murmuring in Polish the entire time. 

Derek could hear Stiles’ phone all the way in his bedroom even though it was on vibrate. It had gone off once or twice while they were eating, but it had been going off more frequently as the morning wore on. Every time Derek heard it, a little piece of him deflated, realizing that there was an entire world outside of the penthouse, and Stiles wasn’t really his.

Eventually, Derek’s knot had gone down enough so that he could separate himself from Stiles. With a sigh, he slipped out of Stiles’ body, feeling the slow ooze of slick and come start to drip out of Stiles’ loose hole. 

“Your phone has been going off for a while,” Derek’s eyes lingered on Stiles’ backside, watching his come drip out of Stiles. “I think someone is trying to get ahold of you.”

Stiles sighed heavily, and ran a hand through his hair, nodding. “It is probably Scott. I told him I would be back this morning.” 

Stiles got up of the couch, sliding on Derek’s sweat pants, and walking back down the hallway to the bedroom. Derek silently watched him walk away, sighing heavily as Stiles shut the door behind him. 

_He’s not really yours,_ he reminded himself. Agreeing that they wanted to see more of each other in the future did not mean that Stiles wanted to be mated to Derek. 

Derek stayed on the couch, his softening cock covered in Stiles slick, mixing with his own scent, and he tried to ignore the pull in his stomach at the idea that Stiles would be leaving soon. He loosely jacked his softening knot, rubbing as much of Stiles’ slick into his skin as he could hoping the scent would stay. 

 

He could hear the faint sounds of Stiles’ voice through the walls as he talked on the phone. Derek stayed on the couch, doing his best to block out the sound, giving Stiles some privacy. Eventually, Stiles voice stopped, and he heard Stiles’ footsteps as he headed toward the bathroom, and the sound of the shower turning on. 

Derek finally hoisted himself up from the couch and went into his room to change into something less soiled. 

His eyes fell on the bed and his wolf purred in delight as he eyed the bedsheets that were rumpled and still smelled like the two of them. He knew he should probably change them today, but he didn’t have to heart to do it just yet. 

*

He was in the kitchen having a second cup of coffee when Stiles came out from his room, dressed and ready for the day. 

Ready to leave. 

His hair was still a little damp, a few water droplets falling onto his shoulders onto his t-shirt, and he smelled clean. Much too clean; Derek could hardly even smell himself on Stiles anymore.

Stiles stood there anxiously, shifting from one foot to the other uneasily, rolling his phone back and forth between his hands. 

“I should probably leave,” he said softly, biting his lip. Over his shoulder was his backpack with the things that be brought over with him, all packed up and ready to go.

Derek nodded. “I don’t want to keep you from anything.”

They stood there silently, looking at one another from across the room. The room felt a little uncomfortable, both too small and too big at the same time, and it was quiet except for the sounds of traffic from outside.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, and Derek hoped he’d ask Derek to take him home. He knew Stiles had boundaries, and while he understood them, he wished he was allowed just a little bit closer to this incredible little omega.

“I can call a cab or get an Uber,” Stiles said, holding up his phone.

“You don’t have to,” Derek couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. “I can have my driver take you back,” he offered, smiling softly. 

Stiles paused, biting his lip uncertainly, and before he had a chance to respond, Derek spoke again. “He can take you to Dolce if you don’t want him to know where you live. Or he can drop you off at a busy public place near your house, if that would make you feel more comfortable.”

Some of the tension left Stiles’ shoulders and he chuckled, a soft grin taking over his face. “Alright then. The second option, please.”

Derek smiled encouragingly, and pulled out his phone to call Greenberg. He turned to face the counter, leaving his back toward Stiles to give himself a second to school his expression into something more relaxed. 

While he talked, Derek could feel Stiles’ anxiousness in the room like it was a separate entity. When he ended the call, he arranged his face back into something friendly and neutral and turned back toward Stiles. 

“It is not that I do not trust you,” he blurted as soon as Derek turned. He set his backpack on the floor, stepping forward a little bit and looking at Derek earnestly. It took Derek a second to figure out what Stiles was talking about, but he finally realized that Stiles was referencing his reluctance to let Greenberg know where he lived.

“I don’t think that.” Derek said. He slid his phone into the pocket of his track pants and walked toward Stiles. “You’re smart to be so careful with yourself.”

Stiles nodded, looking down at his hands.

“My dad works in law enforcement,” he said quietly. “He sees a lot of tough cases. I hear stories sometimes,” He chewed his lip softly, looking back up toward Derek. “He likes me to be safe.”

It was no secret that being an omega was significantly more dangerous than being an alpha, or even a beta. From cat-calling to street harassment to more insidious crimes, Derek couldn’t imagine the different ways omegas had to alter their daily lives just to make sure they made it through the day safe.

“He sounds like a good man,” Derek smiled softly. 

Stiles nodded. “He his.”

“I know you don’t really know me very well, but I want you to know that you’re safe with me.” Derek said. 

Stiles looked at him, tilting his head to the side.

“And you’re safe _from_ me,” He added. He walked closer to Stiles, stopping just a foot or two from him. “I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you. And if you ever change your mind and want to leave, you can. I won’t force you to stay here just because you agreed to it beforehand.”

Stiles rolled his eyes dramatically, but he smiled nonetheless. 

“Thank you, Seriouswolf,” He said in a teasing tone.

“I mean it,” Derek chuckled at the nickname, “You are. I mean it.”

“I know,” Stiles said. He stepped toward Derek, closing the gap between their bodies. Stiles reached down and entangled Derek’s fingers with his.

“How long until your employee arrives?” He peered up at Derek from beneath his lashes, a small, mischievous smirk playing out on his lips.

Derek’s eyes fell to Stiles’ lips and he let out a soft rumbling growl, “About 25 minutes or so.”

“Well then,” Stiles squeezed Derek’s hands, “I want your mouth again.”

Derek knew Stiles meant he just wanted to make out, but his mind flashed to earlier activities and to just how _incredible_ Stiles tasted. 

Stiles walked backward, pulling Derek with him, and backing them toward the couch. Derek allowed himself to be pulled down on top of the omega.

*

They made out lazily on the couch until Greenberg called Derek’s phone to let him know he was outside.

“I’ll walk you down.” Derek said. He rose from the couch, holding his hand out to Stiles to help him up. 

Stiles hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder, giving the room a quick once over to make sure he had everything he came with, and together they rode the elevator down to the lobby of Derek’s building. 

While the elevator descended, Derek eyed the omega shamelessly, admiring his handiwork. Stiles’ neck was marked with love bites and he knew that even with the balm that he had applied to Stiles’ hole, he would still be a little tender. Derek felt a rush of pride that the omega was wearing his marks, no matter how temporary they were.

Stiles caught him looking and blushed, shaking his head. “You are ridiculous,” He chuckled warmly.

Derek just leaned forward and kissed Stiles again.

 

Derek greeted the doorman as he held the door open for the two of them, and Stiles waved and gave him a small, “Thanks, man.”

Greenberg was stood at the curb and he opened the car door when he saw the two of them exit the building. 

A few paces away from the car, Derek stopped walking to turn to Stiles. Stiles looked up at Derek, adjusting the strap of his backpack, and looking up at Derek, confusion written on his face. 

“You know, Stiles...” Derek paused, working up the courage to ask Stiles what he wanted to ask. 

God, why was he so _nervous_ around Stiles?

He had spent the past 18 hours doing filthy, intimate things to him, but he couldn’t even work up the nerve to ask a question? He ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly.

“Yes?” Stiles asked, his eyebrows rising expectantly when Derek didn’t continue. 

He was standing outside of Derek’s apartment building, after spending a night of passionate sex with Derek, currently wearing Derek’s marks all over his body, but Derek still found that he was unsure about his place in the grand scheme of Stiles’ life.

Derek swallowed the lump in his throat, and continued on.

“That business deal that I was at Dolce for….”

Stiles nodded. “Yes, I remember.” 

Stiles reached forward and took Derek’s hand into his, and that gave Derek the courage he needed to keep talking.

“Well, we’re going to have a launch party in a few weeks to announce the merger. It’s going to be in San Francisco, so I’ll be flying out there. Would you like to be my date for the party and spend the weekend with me?”

Stiles let out a breath, clearly surprised by the question. His face lit up, and he grinned brightly. “Wow! I—” 

Then, as quickly as it appeared, his expression faded, and he looked down a little self-consciously. “I do not know. I will have to see how much plane tickets will be.”

Derek shook his head. He let go of Stiles’ hand and cradled his face, stepping toward him. 

“No, babe, you won’t.” Derek stroked the plushness of Stiles’ lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “You’d be my guest. Everything would be covered, you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Stiles’ grin lit up his face, his whisky colored eyes glittering. He bit down softly on Derek’s thumb. “For how many days?”

“Probably the whole weekend. The party is on a Friday, but we can fly out Thursday evening and we would come back on Sunday. Maybe do a bit of sightseeing on Saturday?”

“That sounds great,” Stiles grinned brightly, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little. “I would love to accompany you.” Stiles leaned in to capture Derek’s mouth in a kiss. He pulled back just enough to speak against Derek’s lips. “Let me talk to my employer, and I will call you to let you know.” 

Derek nodded. “Call me anytime.” 

Stiles pulled back to walk toward the car, but Derek pulled him close once more. He kissed his neck, dragging his lips up to Stiles ear to whisper one last thing.

“Even if you can’t get the time off,” Derek said, “Call me. I’d like to see you again. I-If you want.”

“Oh, I _definitely_ want.” Stiles’ grin was blinding. “Goodbye, Derek.” He backed toward the car, winking at Derek as he moved away.

Derek felt he ball of anxiety in his stomach dissolve, because this goodbye wouldn’t be forever. And if everything worked out, the next time he could be with Stiles would be a whole _weekend_.

Stiles climbed into the back of the car and Greenberg shut the back door before walking around to the driver’s side. Derek watched as the car pulled out onto the busy street, making its way down the avenue. Stiles turned around in the back seat, waving to Derek one last time before the car rounded the corner. 

 

Derek had never looked forward to a work party so much in his entire _life_.

  
*  
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-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> *  
> *  
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> Feel free to hang out with me on [ tumblr ](http://darkandstormynight.tumblr.com/). It's the best way to find out what’s going on with my writing. Your kudos and comments make me feel **reborn** , and thank you ALL for taking the time to read the perverse shit that comes out of my head.


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